


So what about these feelings I've got?

by oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: Amy loves the fault in our stars, Amyhavingcommitmentissues, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Gay, Hope&Amy, How I Met Your Mother References, I_love_this, Justanexcusetowriteahopethat'swifematerial, Love, Molly is a supportive friend, Neurotic_Amy, Spent too much time on this, hope_is_just_a_badass, motorcycle_hope
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 69,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY/pseuds/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY
Summary: One year ago Booksmart came into our lives, and I started to fall in love with the aesthetically pleasing lives of these two teenagers named Amy Antsler and Molly Davidson…Amy and Hope do not know each other previous to the movie, and this story surrounds the trysts that these two have. This is after Amy’s trip to Botswana, and she’s started college at Columbia University. Molly and Annabelle are (sort of) buds and roommates attending Yale.Amy is obsessed with the poetic details of The Fault in Our Stars, majoring in Woman’s Gender Studies, and is scared of having a dead-end relationship like Molly’s.Hope loves everything about How I Met Your Mother, majoring in Art History,  and is deeply in love with Amy.Annabelle is cranky 24/7 because Molly won’t let her read her Virginia Woolf novels and keeps teasing her about voluntary reading Twilight during Ms. Fine’s class.Molly is becoming a liberated woman after Jared, and wants to scrapbook everything about Amy’s love life… And is convinced that Hope is a Hufflepuff despite her yelling at Molly about being a Slytherin.Amy and Hope are gay… (and so am I)…and Booksmart existsHooray!
Relationships: Amy/Hope (Booksmart)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 92
Collections: Fanfics to educate the queer children, Mentally_Unstable_Gays





	1. You were in college, working part-time, waiting tables

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by two Taylor Swift songs, Blackbear, and watching How I Met Your Mother and Booksmart back to back alone at 3am while it rains outside.
> 
> Basically was an excuse for me to write about a Hope from upstate New York with tattoos on a motorcycle being absolute wife material for Amy, and Amy being stupid and being scared of falling for Hope.
> 
> If you haven’t seen Booksmart, please watch it. I know you have time now, so don’t make excuses.

> _“You realize that trying to keep your distance from me will not lessen my affection for you. All efforts to save me from you will fail.”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

CHAPTER 1.)

“You need to get out more.”

Amy can’t help but turn her nose at that statement because to its fairness, it was ultimately true. Since the semester started, she’d done nothing but study, and be a strict dorm body. 

“I get out enough,” Amy shoots back, she scrunches her nose as her roommate’s keys clatter on the floor on the other side of the curtain, she hung it shortly after moving in, for privacy reasons. Not because of something stupid.

“Right, just like the whole Jared and I getting married was a thing,” Molly laughs through the receiver of her phone, her best friend went to Yale two years ago, while she decided to take a trip to Botswana for volunteer work.

“What about you and him? Did you guys break up or something?” Amy asks.

“Three months ago, but it’s okay, Anabelle’s been helping me,” Molly says.

“That’s too bad, I really thought you two were gonna make it,” Amy says.

“Me too, but you know me,” Molly laughs, “I can’t be tied down, it destroys my power as a woman.”

“Being independent was earned after years of hard work by some badass woman,” Amy says.

“I mean, why should I throw that away for him?” Molly says.

“You can do so much better than him Moll.”

“I know,” Molly agrees, “but Anabelle’s been helping me get over him,”

“Please don’t tell me I’m being replaced,” Amy jokes, and Molly gives a short chuckle.

“She is no replacement Ames, you’ve got nothing to worry about, but I’ll have you know, she is good rooming material,” Molly says.

Amy can barely make out Anabelle’s voice on the other line as it refers to something along the lines of Molly’s last statement.

_“Glad I served up to your standards of maniac OCD tendencies madam president.”_

“What a bitch,” Amy laughs.

“She’s a piece of work alright,” Molly says, “but you need to get out more Amy, go meet some pretty college Freshman girl, get some coffee and not make the same mistake you did through high school.”

“And that mistake was?” Amy asks.

“Being alone and boring.” Molly says, “don’t assume what happened to me and Jared will happen to you.”

“Right, because I’m officially into Jared.”

“I’d hope not!” Molly laughs, “if you were, I’d need some answers.”

“Oh please!” Amy laughs, “but you and I did that our whole four years, we made a pact that we wouldn’t run off from each other during high school, you were adamant about us studying until senior graduation, now one minute of college life and you’re automatically a brainiac and assuming that I’m going to be forever alone?”

“It’s not like that at all, anyway, I’ll have you know Amy, I’m attending an Ivy league,” Molly retorts.

“Considering your stupid pact, I am too!”

“Glad to know you haven’t forgotten how smart you are,” Molly says, “anyway, Anabelle’s insisting on going to sleep now, so I’ve gotta hang up.”

“Oh! Screw her!” Amy laughs.

“I’d bet she wouldn’t be on board with that, straight people still exist you know?”

“Sadly yes,” Amy deadpans, and they laugh for good few minutes before Molly goes silent.

“Same time next week?”

“Yep!” Amy says.

“Remember to meet someone Amy,” Molly says, “You are a gorgeous specimen after all, any girl would be lucky to be with you.”

“We’ll see about that, Moll,” Amy says before hanging up and flopping onto her bed.

“Still don’t understand your strange ass friendship with that girl,” Amy’s roommate says, through the curtain divider.

“What would you know about friendship?” Amy asks, and she stares up at her ceiling. There are pro feminist posters from back home across her walls next to a pride flag, a gift from Molly five months ago.

“Friends don’t plan phone calls, that’s just weird.”

“We aren’t like most friends,” Amy says, the silhouette of her roommate is her only sign of humanity as she sighs, stretching out her limbs, knees grazing textbooks and papers.

“You can say that again,” the girl mutters under her breath, “now what was this whole meeting people tangent thing she was on about?”

“Molly just thinks that I’m going to be some kind of animal person, never be with anyone, the same old fear.”

“That isn’t fear, that’s insanity.”

“Well,” Amy pulls herself to her feet and grabs a coat from inside her closet as well as her bike, rolling it to the door before latching her helmet over her head, “If it’s so insane, I’m going to go grab a coffee.”

“Be my guest Amy, you’re a big girl, with big decisions.”

“Bye Abigail,” Amy calls as she leaves the dorm complex, riding her bike across campus, until she reaches the small cozy diner, it’s a long walk, but a short ride, it’s nice despite it becoming early autumn, she manages to get a booth after she chains her bike up on a pole outside.

The waiter is taking a little while coming over to her, Amy is in no rush, though it’s getting annoying because she’s taking her time.

The woman has her dark hair up and bags under her eyes, Amy guesses it’s because it’s almost midnight on a Monday.

“Sorry about the wait,” she comes over to Amy, clearly frazzled about something, “I’m the only one working tonight, I’m Hope, what can I get for you?”

“Just a coffee, decaf,” Amy can’t help but be taken aback at this woman, she looks her age, though significantly taller, almost like a giraffe, a strong chiseled jawline and eyes that could draw her in, eyes that _are_ drawing her in.

Amy can’t help but think that she’s even more attractive because of everything about her screams humble and generous, something Amy prides herself in being. 

There’s a black inked wisp and the corner of a pinkish red rose that peaks out from the short sleeve shirt of Hope’s waitress uniform as she grabs her notepad from her apron. Amy guesses it’s a tattoo, and the thought alone makes her quickly rethink her ideology on people with tattoos because… it seems like it suits her.

Makes her _more_ appealing…. Rugged and tough… _but_ appealing.

Maybe this was fate at its best, or it was just simply a coincidence, because Amy is instantly falling for this girl as she carries a cup of coffee to her booth in the corner.

“You go to Columbia?” Amy asks, the woman nods.

“I’m actually a transfer from a community college up north, I’ve been struggling to settle up on a major though,” Hope says, “what about you?”

“I’m a freshman, I took a gap year to travel, I’m from LA, so this is all new to me,” Amy laughs softly, subconsciously rubbing her palms on her thighs, she hoped that the girl wouldn’t notice.

“What are you majoring in?” Hope asks.

“Woman and Gender Studies,” Amy says, “did you decide on a major?”

“Art History and Archaeology, minoring in communications,” Hope gives a soft smile and shrugs, “I’ve enjoyed Art almost all of my life, my father traveled with me a lot after he retired from the force, we went to a lot of art and historical museums during the summertime, and I hope to do work in one after I graduate.”

“That’s cool,” Amy says, “how much to I owe for the coffee?”

“I can get it,” Hope chuckles softly before someone immediately yells for her service across the diner, “hold that thought,” she holds up her index finger as she walks over to the young man before rushing over to the kitchen’s entrance.

Hope comes out minutes later with a slip of paper and sets it on Amy’s table before walking away, and Amy can’t help but look confused because of Hope’s previous statement

Upon further glance there’s a number scrawled out on the receipt, in neat red pen under six words that make her heart race. 

_‘I hope to see you again’_

And for the first time in a while, Amy genuinely feels the same way, the same giddy and excited feeling you feel when you open a present on Christmas morning, or celebrating your birthday when your young. It’s a feeling she’s not accustomed to feeling for people, none of the less for someone she just met…

She’s never been in love; it’s always been these small crushes on girls in high school. There was this one girl though, Ryan, she was easily fitting to Molly’s standards. Always convincing her to talk to Ryan, except she always chickened out. Maybe the reason she chickened out was because Ryan was so little it didn’t matter?

_After all… Molly wanted only the best for Amy, except… what if Hope was what she should want?_

Because currently, Amy is still sitting in the booth at the diner, clueless and dumbstruck, she couldn’t believe that this is what could happen at 11:42pm.


	2. Life it way too short to take it slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There’s only one issue though,” Amy says.
> 
> “Let me guess,” Molly sighs, “you called me because you can’t get yourself to call her?”
> 
> “Bingo.”
> 
> “Do it Ames!” Molly chimes, “this is college, you need to fail a bit, this is real life, your allowed to be who you want to be, no one’s stopping you.”
> 
> “I’m just so nervous Moll,” Amy says, “I mean, what do I say? What do I tell her?”
> 
> “Relax before you give yourself a heart attack,” Molly exclaims, and Amy takes a deep breath, “just ask if she’d like to meet you after classes or something.”
> 
> “Really? It’s that simple?” Amy laughs.
> 
> “It’s all in your head,” Molly clarifies, “you can do this girl, go call her.”
> 
> “Right, yes,” Amy shoots, “I’m gonna do it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS MAY OR MAY NOT TURN INTO A LOVE STORY SURROUNDING AMY AND HOPE. NOT SURE IF I’M MORE OKAY WITH THIS OR THE FACT MUSIC IS BLASTING ON MY STEREO...
> 
> QUARANTINE MOOD… ALSO… BLASTING THE 1975 AND LAUV… I FEEL SO CLOSE TO ROBBERS AND LONELY EYES… JUST SAYING… 
> 
> JUST WANT TO SAY… THIS WHOLE THING WAS BASICALLY INSPIRED BY THE LYRICS OF ‘OURS’ BY TAYLOR SWIFT… MIXED WITH ‘MINE’
> 
> …NOT BECAUSE DIANA SAID THAT SHE LOVED SPEAK NOW IN AN INTERVIEW… I SWEAR… IT JUST… I’VE BEEN LISTENING TO IT SINCE QUARANTINE STARTED… NOT SORRY?

****

_“You can ask the universe for signs all you want but ultimately we’ll only see what we want to see…when we’re ready to see it.” – Ted Mosby_

CHAPTER 2.)

The next morning Amy calls Molly, however, because of classes, morning becomes afternoon, then early evening.

None of the less… Amy calls Molly.

Molly’s in the middle of some rant about this one guy in her Chemistry lecture when she suddenly goes silent, as if she’s psychic about Amy, and she is… They’ve known each other practically their whole lives, Molly asks why she called her out of the blue.

It’s not like this call was coordinated, not like they planned this on a Sunday, but Molly will always answer her phone for Amy, because Amy is her best friend, arguably her only one at that.

They aren’t like most friends though, Molly is strict and clean, extremely cordial, as well as formal to everyone, and it rubs off on Amy for the most part.

The kids used to argue that she and Amy were secretly boning after Amy came out her sophomore year, and it made Amy extremely upset for a good week before Molly finally went to Principle Brown and told him that it wasn’t okay. Brown immediately responded that it was out of his

control, so Molly threatened to go to his supervisor, she even found the copy of the student handbook in her desk drawer and highlighted the paragraph to the school’s anti-tolerance to bullying. It shut him up and immediately suspended a few students.

It made everyone fear them. Everyone knew them as the two kids who gave no fucks about anything but their studies, they did nothing but constantly study. They graduated at the top of their class, sure, but Amy was miserable the whole time, always wondering a “what if things were different,” she would never actually admit that aloud though, no matter how overwhelmed she got with studying, Molly never failed to make her smile and humor her, because despite everything, they still had each other, and to Amy, that’s what mattered the most about friendship, someone who would never desert you if you needed something.

Why should it frighten her that she met someone? Molly would be absolutely ecstatic.

“I went to the diner after our call last night,” Amy says.

Molly is silent for a few minutes before clearing her throat, “yeah?”

“I met someone,” Amy feels herself say, her hands feel as if they’re sweating slightly, she’s nervous, not because of telling Molly about the diner, but her approval to Hope. Molly is one of the most important people in her entire life, and her opinion means everything it should be, and vice versa.

“Oh Amy!” Molly says, Amy can hear the rustling on the other line before she knows that Molly put her on speaker, “She met someone Ana!”

_“For the umpteenth time Davidson, don’t fucking bother me while I’m reading.”_

“Oh, we all just love reading _Twilight_ , don’t we?” Molly mocks and Amy can hear Annabelle grumble a few profanities before a loud slam is heard.

“Was she really reading _Twilight_?” Amy asks.

“No, some Virginia Woolf novel,” Molly comments, “something she does on Tuesday nights.”

“You guys should read the same book at the same time,” Amy points out, “have like a roommate book club.”

“Amy, as much as I’m for your ideas, that one sounds lame,” Molly says, “but I’ll see if Annabelle would be down for it.”

“I’ll do it with you,” Amy says, and immediately Molly squeals.

“Like what we did during the summer of 4th grade?”

“Yeah!” Amy shoots, “exactly!”

“How fun!” Molly says, “tell me about this girl you met.”

“Oh,” Amy gives a nervous chuckle, “back to me now.”

“Yes,” Molly comments, “spill it.”

“Well,” Amy begins, “she goes to Columbia too.”

“Well that’s good.”

“Yeah,” Amy says, “her name is Hope, she waitresses for the diner near campus and is majoring in art history and archaeology, and minoring in communications.”

“She sounds good,” Molly says, “is she pretty?”

“You wouldn’t believe,” Amy gives a wide grin, “she said she wants to work in a museum after she graduates, she enjoys art, said that her father and her traveled a lot during the summertime after he retired from the force.”

“Oh, she sounds so humble.”

“There’s only one issue though,” Amy says.

“Let me guess,” Molly sighs, “you called me because you can’t get yourself to call her?”

“Bingo.”

“Do it Ames!” Molly chimes, “this is college, you need to fail a bit, this is real life, your allowed to be who you want to be, no one’s stopping you.”

“I’m just so nervous Moll,” Amy says, “I mean, what do I say? What do I tell her?”

“Relax before you give yourself a heart attack,” Molly exclaims, and Amy takes a deep breath, “just ask if she’d like to meet you after classes or something.”

“Really? It’s that simple?” Amy laughs.

“It’s all in your head,” Molly clarifies, “you can do this girl, go call her.”

“Right, yes,” Amy shoots, “I’m gonna do it!”

  
“You’re not going to call her, are you?” Abigail asks after Molly hangs up.

“I’m not sure yet,” Amy says

“If your serious about her, you need to do it,” She says, “your insane friend is right about one thing, that your allowed to be who you want to be, if this girl is truly something, then you’ll do it.”

“I’m serious about her,” Amy clarifies, more for herself then anything, “I really enjoyed being with her.”

“For the five minutes that she brought you coffee?”

“She seemed nice, she was smiling at me,” Amy interjects, “she gave me her number, obviously she likes me back.”

“See?” Abigail says, “obviously she like you, or else she wouldn’t have given you her number.”

“That tears it!” Amy shouts, grabbing her phone where she threw it, as well as the paper and enters the digits into her phone.

“Are you going to call her?”

“Maybe I should just text her first,” Amy says, and Abigail shakes her head.

“Call her!”

“Okay,” Amy clicks on the phone icon and immediately the line starts to ring, “shit, I don’t know what I should say.”

_“Hello?”_

It’s raspy, and it instantly sends a wave of blood to Amy’s cheeks, she’s not sure she’s going to be able to say anything, for the most part she just begged that the phone would go to voicemail, but this was always a good scenario too.

“H-Hi?” Amy is now stuttering, attempting to keep a strong verbal demeanor is hard when knowing that someone sounds that beautiful, Amy wonders if someone’s voice could be classified as beautiful, but Hope has certainly made everything an exception.

_“Who is this?”_

Amy tries to say something, ‘hi, I’m Amy from the diner, you gave me your number yesterday?’

Though all that comes out is a jumbled mess of words, something that is completely incoherent. It sounds like the phrase that Amy wants to say, but she knows that it’s not.

_“What was that?”_

“I-uh… Those aren’t words…” Amy gives a nervous chuckle.

_“No, they aren’t,”_ Hope admits, _“who gave you my number? You aren’t some stupid telemarketer are you?”_

“N-No!” Amy shoots, “you gave me your number yesterday, at the diner.”

_“Oh! It’s you!”_ Hope says, _“I’m glad you called me, I was thinking I might have scared you off, it’d be a shame though, you are pretty.”_

“R-Really?”

_“Totally,”_ Hope admits, _“you know you never gave me your name?”_

“O-Oh!” Amy shoots, “It’s Amy, I-I’m Amy.”

_“That’s a nice name, it fits you.”_

“You are quite a charmer,” Amy subconsciously says, and immediately covers her mouth in surprise.

She can feel Hope’s wide grin though the phone, _“Really?”_

“Yes,” Amy gives a nervous chuckle.

“Well… Your certainly one yourself,” Hope says, _“Woman Gender Studies and all.”_

“Why’d you give me your number anyway?” Amy asks, “not being rude or anything,” Amy rushes out, “I’m just curious.”

_“Why don’t you meet me at the diner? Maybe we can talk then,”_ Hope says.

“Are you playing a joke on me?”

_“As if,”_ Hope laughs, _“just come to the diner after classes tomorrow.”_

The line goes dead and instantly Amy feels a strong sense of giddiness.

“Don’t explode over there,” Abigail says, “the last thing I want to be doing at 11pm is hosing your guts off of the wall.”

“I won’t make any promises.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES, HOPE WILL BE HER USUAL CRODGITY SELF… SHITING ON EVERYONE’S DREAMS… BUT AMY’S… :”)
> 
> I’M THRILLED TO HAVE HOPE AND MOLLY INTERACT BECAUSE THEN I CAN START HAVING HOPE BE LIKE “YOUR WIFE” THIS AND “YOUR WIFE” THAT IN A TEASING MANNER TO AMY, UNTIL AMY JUST CANNOT STAND ANY MORE OF HOPE’S BULLSHIT.
> 
> BUT LIKE… AFTER THEY GET mArRIeD AMY CAN BE LIKE “EXCUSE ME BITCH, YOUR MY ONLY WIFE.”
> 
> *CLEARS THROAT* OH MY GOD… SOMEONE WRITE THIS…
> 
> BUT ANYWAY… THEY PROBABLY WON’T ACTUALLY GET MARRIED BECAUSE OF AMY’S BELIEF OF BEING EMPOWERED AS A WOMAN AND ALL THAT FEMINISM STUFF… DON’T CRUCIFY ME… I’M NOT FLUENT ON THAT SUBJECT….
> 
> ON A MORE SERIOUS NOTE… I’M STARTING TO FALL IN LOVE WITH THIS FICTIONAL HOPE… AND AMY SHOULD TOO…


	3. I’ll wait to see you again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me more about your childhood,” Amy says, Hope hums through a mouthful of egg and it makes Amy start to laugh at how adorable it almost looks. 
> 
> “I’m originally from Pittsburgh, but I grew up in Yonkers.” Hope gives a grin, “what about you? Tell me more about LA.”
> 
> “LA is fucking crazy,” Amy laughs softly.
> 
> “So basically, like all of the movies?”
> 
> Amy nods, “just like ‘em.”
> 
> “Cool,” Hope grins, “I’ve always wanted to go there.”  
> “You should,” Amy smiles, “I should take you someday,” Amy’s eyes quickly widen, and she blushes, “that is… if you want to go.”
> 
> “Totally,” Hope laughs softly and stuffs the last bite of pancake in her mouth, “what about you? Tell me more about your parents.”
> 
> “My parents?” Amy laughs softly, “they’re super religious.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOW IS EVERYONE LIKING THIS HOT MESS OF A STORY? *ENTER CRICKET NOISES HERE* 
> 
> RIGHT. SO WHAT ABOUT ANOTHER CHAPTER? *MORE CRICKET NOISES*
> 
> wELL yOU’Re gETTING oNe…

_“The marks humans leave are too often scars.”_

_― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

****

CHAPTER 3.)

Amy’s leg bounces as she fidgets with the cuff of her sleeve, she’s sitting in the same booth, though there was no sign of Hope. She keeps checking her phone, the clock only flicking one digit upon each button press, still, Amy couldn’t help but fear being stood up, it’s not that she doubts Hope’s ability to show up on time, but the fact is… Amy is generally impatient in these types of situations.

**_4:03pm_ **

_‘She did say last class, right?’_ she mentally coaches herself before nodding quickly _, ‘yes! She did, stay cool, she’ll show Antsler.’_

 _‘what if she doesn’t?’_ her mind wanders, causing her to frown, 

_‘Don’t say that,’_ She scolds herself, _‘she seems like she’ll show.’_

There’s a pair of headlights the switch off from outside of the window, and suddenly there’s a figure walking up the curb and yanking open the door to the diner. The bells on the door toll and there are feet walking over to Amy’s table. The figure walks past everyone and immediately sits in the seat across from Amy, causing her to look up and jump, startled slightly, upon recognizing the face to be none other than Hope’s.

“Sorry I’m late, Hildreth was taking his time explaining our term paper.”

“It’s alright,” Amy smiles, and suddenly all the minutes she was dying in anticipation instantly don’t matter, because Hope is indeed here now, “I thought you stiffed me actually,” Amy admits, making Hope rub the back of her neck before chuckling.

“Was thinking about it,” Hope jokes.

“Really?”

Hope scoffs, “As if?” A wide grin spreads across her lips, “I wouldn’t live it down if I missed this.”

“Me neither,” Amy laughs, “who would you hear it from?”

“My father probably,” Hope sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “he’s been wanting me to make friends since I moved.”

“My best friend has been hounding me to meet people,” Amy chimes, instantly there’s a glint in Hope’s eyes, one that screams curiosity and a _‘tell me more?’_

So Amy does.

“That’s hilarious that you had to call your best friend for moral support though,” Hope chuckles, “really strange.”

“Why?” Amy asks, “me and Molly just have a strong type of bond, like we’re really good friends.”

“Does she go here?”

“She got into Yale actually, I miss her terribly.”

“That’s understandable,” Hope nods.

“Really?”

“Not really,” Hope smirks.

“Ouch.”

“Look, sometimes best friends just need to go back to being plain old friends,” Hope says, “there’s nothing wrong with that, it just happens.”

“Well if your insisting I break up my friendship with Molly, I will crush you,” Amy shoots, making Hope chuckle.

“Actually, Amy,” Hope clears her throat, “I’m not inciting anything, I’m just saying, make some new friends or something.”

“What about you?” Amy asks, “aren’t we friends?”

Hope shrugs, “if you want us to be.”

“Do you want to be?” Amy asks, “friends, I mean.”

Hope rolls her eyes, “frankly I rather be your girlfriend, but I guess I can stay in the friendzone too.”

Amy can feel her face heat up instantly, “Oh!”

“Yeah,” Hope nods, “Of course if you’re not into that then…”

“No!” Amy shoots, “No, I mean I am… I’m gay, I just was confused for a second because you were insinuating that I get rid of my best friend.”

“I just don’t really want to compete with some sidekick bitch of yours,” Hope admits.

“Please, Molly is harmless,” Amy lies… Molly was far from that. She could break a board in half from that kung fu class they took back in 8th grade… Who knows what Molly could make of Hope?

Molly was not to be messed with in that sense, but if Molly dare judges her in regard to Hope right now, there will be consequences.

“Sure, if you say so,” Hope points out, “I will throw some fucking hands if your lying right now.”

“You just met me,” Amy points out, “like yesterday.”

“There’s just something about you though,” Hope gives a chuckles, “that makes me not want to ever leave.”

“It feels like your quoting a movie,” Amy scoffs with a smile before looking down at the table.

“What if this was a movie?” Hope asks, “what would we be doing then?”

“I guess this is the part where I confess my undying love to you and beg you to take me back to your place to get it on,” Amy deadpans, and Hope laughs softly.

“Get it on?” She asks, “what are we? Twelve?”

“You know what I mean,” Amy says.

“Actually I don’t,” Hope smirks, “enlighten me.”

“I’m not going to say it,” Amy frowns.

“What? Sex?” Hope grins, “It’s just a word Amy, not the boogieman.”

“Your ruining all of the chances for a relationship,” Amy sticks her tongue out, and Hope furrows her brow.

“Would you like to be in a relationship with me?”

“I’m not sure,” Amy says, “we just met, remember?”

“Yeah,” Hope sighs softly, “I do.”

“Don’t be upset about that,” Amy points out as Hope starts to mentally drift off, “it’s not ‘no’”

“But it’s not yes,” Hope clarifies.

“I wouldn’t mind being your girlfriend, except you’ve gotta pass inspection.”

“Didn’t think this was a contest,” Hope laughs, “I don’t exactly see many girls banging down your door for dates anyway Amy.”

“Well, there is you,” Amy points out, “you are asking me to go on dates with you, and frankly I’m flattered.”

“Well that’s endearing,” Hope raises a brow, “good to know I won’t have to fight too hard.”

“You seem like the type of person to know how to fight,” Amy laughs, “long legs and all.”

“Right, and my nickname back in the day was giraffe klutz,” Hope deadpans.

“Really?”

“I’d feel insulted if it wasn’t,” Hope admits.

“What time is your first class tomorrow?” Amy asks.

“9am,” Hope furrows a brow, “why?”

“Meet me here for breakfast?”

“You paying?”

“Nope,” Amy grins.

“Let’s do it,” Hope chuckles.

“Are you two going to order something?” A woman asks, and Amy clicks on her phone.

**_7:03pm_ **

“Sorry Emily, I completely forgot about that,” Hope laughs softly, “can I just get an order of pancakes and some eggs?”

“How would you liked them?” Emily asked, scribbling something down on her notepad before eyeing Hope.

“Over easy,” Hope smiles, turning to Amy she raises a brow, “you want anything?”

Amy is at loss for words, Hope looks practically flawless and her voice is seemingly dripping with affection. Amy shakes her head quickly, surely, she shouldn’t trust her own voice to convey that she wasn’t exactly hungry.

She knew deep down if she would open her mouth, something that wasn’t words would escape, or worse… she could accidently compliment Hope, not that it would exactly be a bad thing, but that compliment could possibly be fully imperfect and flawed in so many ways, the actual opposite of Hope. _Shit… She’s a goner._

_‘Pull yourself together Antsler’_

“I-I’m good,” Amy flashes a nervous smile, before Hope shakes her head, furrowed brows, she turns to Emily.

Hope’s bicep being exposed further, it makes Amy feel somehow warmer, the wisps were swirls, thick black swirls that connected with roses, surely this was not legal. Hope must know how it made her look.

“Pancakes are fine for her,” Hope looks back as Amy frowns.

“Why did you say that?”

“I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Hope grins softly, “tell me about yourself Amy.”

“What do you want to know?” Amy fidgets with her sleeve again as her phone started to buzz against the table.

“Who is that?” Hope asks, Amy reads the caller ID and frowns.

“Molly.”

“ _The_ Molly?” Amy nods and a wide grin spreads over Hope’s face, “can I do something?”

“What are you going to do?” Amy says.

“Prank your friend,” Hope laughs, Amy shakes her head quickly.

“No way! Molly doesn’t deserve that.”

“Loosen up a bit, it’ll be funny.”

“Molly doesn’t do ‘funny,’” Amy deadpans, Hope simply swipes the device off of the table and swipes the accept button.

_“Amy? What’s going on? I thought you were going to call me after your classes so we could study?”_

“I’m sorry,” Hope begins, a shit-eating grin starts to form across her lips as the color starts to drain from Amy’s face. Hope opens her mouth to speak, “Amy can’t currently come to the phone right now.”

_“Who is this? Oh my God, are you Hope? Is Amy okay?”_

“Yes she’s fine,” Hope clears her throat, “you just interrupted us having sex, that’s all.”

Hope pulls the phone away from her ear and immediately ends the call, holding down the power button, she breaks out in a laugh before sliding the phone across the table, Amy however, has her jaw on the floor, she can’t believe she didn’t fall out of her chair at this point, because she’s sure she won’t hear the end of it from Molly.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath and scoffs, because even though that just happened, Amy can’t help but smile, completely enjoying Hope’s company.

“That, my friend,” Hope gestures to her phone, putting extra emphasis on the last word as she looks into Amy’s eyes, “is how you prank someone properly.”

“I can’t believe you just did that to Molly.”

“I can,” Hope grins, “she seems like a piece of work, no wonder you two get along.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult my judgement.”

“Good, because I didn’t,” Hope laughs softly, “it was hers that I was insulting.”

Amy holds up her finger, “correction then, I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult my best friend.”

“Well I just did,” Hope smiles, Emily comes over with their food and sets it down in front of them, Hope grins at the woman as she walks off.

“You really didn’t need to get me anything,” Amy stresses, Hope just shakes her head.

“Eat, it won’t be warm long.”

So Amy does, and she remembers something that almost breaks her heart, Hope isn’t her girlfriend. It’s not like she doesn’t want to be, but it’s Amy, she’s hesitant because she certainly doesn’t want to rush into anything like this, what if what happened to Jared and Molly happens to her too?

Heart break was common, and was described as extremely painful. Could she put herself up to that? Could she let Hope get heartbroken by her own doing?

She wouldn’t want that, Hope seems like everything she’s always wanted, but how?

“Tell me more about your childhood,” Amy says, Hope hums through a mouthful of egg and it makes Amy start to laugh at how adorable it almost looks.

“I’m originally from Pittsburg, but I grew up in Yonkers.” Hope gives a grin, “what about you? Tell me more about LA.”

“LA is fucking crazy,” Amy laughs softly.

“So basically, like all of the movies?”

Amy nods, “just like ‘em.”

“Cool,” Hope grins, “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“You should,” Amy smiles, “I should take you someday,” Amy’s eyes quickly widen, and she blushes, “that is… if you want to go.”

“Totally,” Hope laughs softly and stuffs the last bite of pancake in her mouth, “what about you? Tell me more about your parents.”

“My parents?” Amy laughs softly, “they’re super religious.”

“Do they know about you being gay?”

“Oh yeah!” Amy laughs softly, “I came out during my sophomore year, for the most part, they thought that Molly and I were boning after I told them, but they’re super nice and understanding about everything.”

“That’s good,” Hope smiles softly, “my dad retired from the force when I was twelve, for the majority of my life, I was switched around between my grandparents and my Uncle Dale’s.”

“What about your mom?” Amy asks, and Hope takes a deep breath before shrugging.

“My dad had me when he was just coming out of high school, said she ran off after I was born, he enlisted into the military because he needed some income and he couldn’t exactly jump at the opportunity for college.”

“That’s…” Amy’s voice trails off, “unfortunate, at least you turned out alright.”

“That’s debatable,” Hope laughs, and Amy shakes her head.

“No,” She smiles, “you seem like a genuine person.”

“I guess this is me making up for his college experience, he has a big heart and only wanted to protect me in all the ways he couldn’t protect my mother.”

“Did she leave him?”

“I’m not sure of the full story,” Hope frowns.

“Does he know about you being gay?”

“Oh,” Hope laughs softly, “between my taste in clothes and the attitude I had for Converse, it was pretty much a given.”

Amy gives a soft laugh, “so he’s cool with it?”

“Like ice water.”

“What a dad,” Amy shakes her head.

“I do take care of him though,” Hope says, “sometimes he’ll call me at 4am because he needs to talk to someone.”

“Why?”

“His PTSD,” Hope comments, “you can’t forget that shit.”

“Right.”

“So I got him a dog before I left, a service animal that’ll help calm him down.”

“That’s nice of you,” Amy smiles.

“I love my dad,” Hope laughs, “it’s what’d he want for me anyway.”

“Here’s your receipt,” Emily says, placing a slip of paper on the table, Hope snatches it and stands up before Amy could even process what happened.

“Thanks Em,” She says, “I’ve got it.”

“I can pay for mine if you-”

Hope holds up her hand, “Please Amy, I insist.”

If Amy thought that Hope couldn’t get any more attractive, she just did, whipping her wallet out from her front pocket and holding out her debt card for the clerk, she totally pays for her, something that never happens, it’s not that Amy is wanting Hope for free meals, it’s the fact that despite the fuss that Amy puts up, Hope denies anything and wants to give her things, not as an exchange for time, but as a gift, as a wanting to see her again. It’s something that Amy takes to the back of her mind as she walks back to Hope’s car before wishing her a good night.

Hope totally wanted to drive her back to campus after realizing Amy biked there, but Amy refused, telling her that it wasn’t necessary.

However as she’s lying in bed, she feels her phone vibrate on her nightstand. After she turned it back on, she was flooded with twenty-seven messages from Molly, of course she tended to those, but told Molly that nothing happened between them despite the last response of hers being a _‘go get it girl.’_

Molly refused to accept that answer of course, and instead, claimed that if she wanted to keep her sexual activity a secret, she would understand… Granted that was a lie, she wanted details.

Though the last message was from Hope, and it made her smile softly.

_‘I had fun talking to you tonight, I’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow morning at 7am and I’ll drive you to campus after, I refuse to let a girl as pretty as you bike that far.”_

_“I did too,”_ She writes, then stares at her screen for a second before thumbing a new message.

_“I cannot wait for tomorrow.”_

She deletes it, but retypes it again, thinking for a moment before having her thumb hover over the backspace.

“Hey? Are you home?” Abigail calls, and Amy drops her phone onto her stomach with a yelp

“Yeah,” She calls and picks up the phone to see the screen, and her mouth goes dry, because she sent it, and Hope has already responded.

_“Me neither, sleep well.”_

**Okay, maybe falling for Hope wasn’t such a bad thing after all, she was sweet of course.**

_That was the first night she dreamt of Hope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NO WORDS TO EXPLAIN HOW MANY FEELINGS I’M ACHIEVING WITH THIS. IT’S CRAZY, FALLING IN LOVE WITH THESE TWO IS EASY.
> 
> ALSO IF YOU GUYS GET THE REFERENCE OF THE LAST LINE… I LOVE YOU…
> 
> I JUST WANT TO GAGE A REFERENCE ON HOW EVERYONE FEELS ABOUT THE EXCESSIVE DIOLOGE REGARDING THIS STORY, IT’S KIND OF HARD FOR ME RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I’M STILL TRYING TO STUDY THE BASIC FORMAT OF WRITING, AND I CURRENTLY DO NOT HAVE A BETA READER, I’M NOT REQUESTING ONE UNLESS THIS BECOMES COMPLETELY UNBEARABLE TO READ. 
> 
> ANYONE JUST… WAITING FOR THEM TO KISS? IT’LL HAPPEN…. GIVE IT A FEW. I’VE GOT BIG PLANS FOR THIS TRASH. NOT SURE ABOUT AN ENDING THOUGH TBH… MAYBE A POST GRAD REUNION FOR AMY’S HIGH SCHOOL WITH HOPE AND SHE GETS JEALOUS OVER AMY’S EX CRUSH ON RYAN. 
> 
> HOPE’S DAD WILL BE FUN TO FUCKING WRITE, I ACTUALLY FIGURED OUT A LAST NAME FOR HOPE, UNREGARDED TO THE MOVIE… BUT JUST… YEAH.
> 
> ‘Hope Conrad’ and ‘Dennis Conrad’
> 
> :)


	4. And I just kissed you, darling. I hope you weren't alarmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT SURE WHAT I’M TRYING TO ACHIEVE WITH THIS, BUT LIKE… THE STORY WILL GO ON ANYWAY…   
> NOW I’M LISTENING TO MACHINE GUN KELLY, BUT THIS STORY WILL BE SOMETHING AWESOME.
> 
> I SHOULD’VE WARNED THAT THIS WILL HAVE SWEARING AND SEXUAL INNUENDOS. NOT SURE ABOUT… YOU KNOW… NOT SURE…. BUT THIS WILL PROBABLY TURN INTO SOME SORT OF LOVE STORY… TRIANGLE THING BETWEEN MOLLY, HOPE, AND AMY… WHERE AMY AND MOLLY ARE BEST FRIENDS AND HOPE LOVES AMY, BUT WANTS TO THROAT KICK MOLLY. 
> 
> BUT LIKE PAIRING HOPE AND AMY… OBVIOUSLY. LOVE THOSE TWO. 
> 
> I FELT LIKE THIS NEEDED TO BE WRITTEN.

****

> _"It’s one thing to not want something. It’s another to be told you can’t have it.” — Robin Scherbatsky_

* * *

CHAPTER 4.)

Hands. They’re rough, however, feel soft against skin.

All at once, it feels as if she’s drowning.

Lips feel of fire, sear against her own, and it seemingly ignites something within her own soul, it sends a long shiver down her spine, causing her arms to involuntary reach out, combing thin fingers through long hair.

A mouth hangs beside her ear, familiar raspy voice uttering obscene, yet, sweet things into it, things that would make her blush otherwise.

Sweat lines skin, and it moves against her own. _She might explode._

The feeling that she feels in her heart is becoming overwhelming as they stay like this, it’s like a spring that’s coiled itself within her gut, unfurling and exploding into millions of fragments all at once.

It’s too much, but seemingly not enough.

The face pulls itself from its position, and suddenly, eyes are burning into her own.

Amy’s eyelids instantly slam shut, in shock.

_Hope_.

What has she gotten herself into? Obviously, it’s something that feels right, but feels so wrong.

_‘You’re so beautiful baby.’_ It’s murmured, followed by their foreheads connecting.

Amy swears she might die at those words. Correction, she _will_ die.

But _God_ , it’d be an amazing way to die-

“Hey!” Abigail yells, and instantly Amy is bolting upright, gasping, “If I can hear you, your dreaming too loud,” Abigail grumbles making Amy groan softly.

“Shut up,” Amy huffs, flopping back down against her pillow.

_‘Things are so complicated.’_

* * *

“Hey,” Hope says as Amy sits down across from her. Amy’s hair is carefully framing her face, as she looks at Hope.

Hope is dressed in faded jeans and yellow Converse, a white V-neck with a single maroon stripe across the chest and sleeves, a large 96 on the chest with a yellow fringed jacket slung over the chair behind her broad frame. It reminded Amy of something cowboys might wear, with long tassels and a leather-like material. It looked worn from over the chair, though Hope’s arms surround a small cup of coffee and a newspaper.

“You read the paper?”

“Not really,” Hope gestures it to Amy, and indeed it wasn’t exactly the paper, it was the back portion of it, the comics, “I enjoy taking advice about life from an orange cat.”

Amy smiles softly, “Are you joking?”

“No,” Hope laughs softly, “I identify with Garfield in so many ways.”

“Name one,” Amy says.

“I hate people.”

“You like me,” Amy points out, “aren’t I a person?”

“You are an exception Amy,” Hope smiles softly, and takes a sip of her mug, “how do you take your coffee?”

“Actually,” Amy hums softly, “I think I’ll have some green tea today.”

“Weird,” Hope furrows a brow.

“Tea has been found to be extremely beneficial,” Amy points out as a young man takes her order and soon after brings her a cup similar to Hope’s, she dunks the bag into the water a few times before setting it on the edge of a napkin and bringing the cup to her lips.

“Sure,” Hope smiles softly, “how did you sleep?”

Setting the cup down, Amy’s eyes flick open and she swallows, “It was good.”

_‘If she only knew how it was…’_ Amy thinks, _‘wait no… don’t actually disclose what you dreamt about, she doesn’t need to know… what you did.’_

Amy looks down _, ‘Oh God, please don’t look too obvious about it.’_

“That’s good,” Hope smiles softly, if she notices Amy being abnormal, she doesn’t mention it.

Instead, Hope balances the side of her face in her right palm as she looks over to the window, there’s several more tattoos on her inner arm that Amy notices. A nine digit number and a Celtic symbol.

“What does that number mean?” Amy asks, and Hope looks down before clearing her throat.

“My dad’s military number,” She says, “I got it tattooed as a reminder not to forget who I am beneath my flesh.”

“So the roses have meaning as well?”

Hope laughs softly, “My middle name is Rose.”

“Oh,” Amy smiles softly, “I’m guessing that Celtic symbol means something too?”

“Sign of hope,” Hope turns her arm over to expose it further, it’s on the inside of her right arm, near her wrist, “for obvious reasons.”

“That’s cool.”

“What about you? Do you have any?” Amy shakes her head, it makes Hope frown, “you haven’t done anything risky like that?”

“Me and Molly were the good kids,” Amy laughs softly.

“I’ll say,” Hope comments, “you need to let loose, even if it’s not with tattoos, just express yourself.”

“I do that,” Amy frowns, “I’ve got posters in my room.”

“I mean, with something that reflects who you are,” Amy frowns.

“I thought I did that.”

“I mean something that makes you happy, not permanent.”

“Oh,” Amy nods, “I didn’t think my parents would be fond of a tattoo.”

“Figures,” Hope grins, “you don’t seem like the type.”

“and you do?” Amy raises a brow, Hope simply shrugs.

“I’m more expressive.”

_‘you sure were last night… wait… no! Be serious Amy, your practically twenty now.’_

“You seem like it,” Amy gives an amused smile, “have you been in many relationships?”

“Oh,” Hope looks down to her arm and smiles softly, “no, actually, not many people pique my interest.”

“I do?”

“Of course,” Hope smiles softly, “in case you haven’t noticed, Amy, you are fucking beautiful, and any girl would be lucky to be your girlfriend, myself included.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m here,” Amy blushes, looking down and holding the handle on her mug, staring into the umber liquid.

“I’m not,” Hope says, “I don’t care what anyone else thinks of you, and you honestly shouldn’t either, your great.”

“Everyone else thought me and Molly were lame.”

“Molly is the definition of lame from what I hear,” Hope comments, Amy’s eyes snapping up, jaw opening to protest, “but you on the other hand, you seem actually cool.”

“Really?” Amy laughs softly, “you think I’m cool?”

“Yeah,” Hope grins, “you just had a lame life so far.”

“So how do I fix that?” Amy questions, Hope simply clears her throat and clicks her tongue.

“You already have,” Hope smiles softly, “I am the definition of cool.”

“Wow,” Amy grins, “what ego.”

“Now,” Hope shakes her head, “continue telling me about your sad boring childhood with Holly Davidson.”

“Her name is Molly, Hope.”

“I know,” Hope chuckles, “I just wanted to see the look on your face when I insulted her again.”

“Anyway,” Amy takes another sip of her tea before shaking her head, “I’ve maintained over a 4.0 GPA during high school, finishing second of my class.”

“Sounds like a lame life.”

“It wasn’t bad,” Amy comments, running her fingers around the rim of her mug, “just unexciting, though on the night before graduation me and Molly went to our first party.”

“You’ve only been to one?” Hope asks, and Amy exhales sharply with a dumbfounded laugh.

“Yeah, it wasn’t that fun.”

“That’s because I wasn’t invited,” Hope jabs, making Amy smile softly, “I bring the party.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,”

Hope gives a hum as she brings the mug to her lips, “trust me, you’ll be surprised.”

“I’m sure,” Amy sarcastically says.

“Really,” Hope smiles, “why was that party so bad anyway?”

“Well,” Amy nervously chuckles and scratches the back of her neck, “I threw up on this girl.”

“That’s all?” Hope looks amused, and Amy shakes her head.

“I can’t tell you,” She pinches the bridge of her nose, “I never heard the end of it from Molly, God knows what you’d say.”

Hope’s arm extends across the table and touches the edge of Amy’s elbow, with a look of comfort and sincerity that could make a heart melt, more so Amy’s, but still, she resists, because she knows she can’t fuck this up.

“You can tell me,” Hope says, and it’s not even sugarcoated like sweet, it’s almost endearing and comforting and it makes goosebumps line Amy’s arm, because Hope is… Different.

“I-uhm…” Amy clears her throat, “I was going to… with this girl… except I totally fucked that up… shoved my finger up… not where I thought I did,” Amy can’t help but stare down at the table with a face brighter than crimson, she’s embarrassed and can’t believe that… she actually admitted to one of the worst fuck-ups anyone has ever had.

_‘Geometry, my only enemy.’_

“Oh,” Hope lets out, and Amy looks up to see Hope’s newfound shit-eating grin, it almost makes her mad, because the memory haunts her, but then Hope is shrugging it off and telling her that it’s okay and that she shouldn’t beat herself up so much over something as little as that.

“It gets worse though,” Amy admits, “I drank this cup from the side of the tub, and it had cigarette ashes and what have you, and that’s how I totally vomited onto the girl.”

“Hope laughs softly, “I’m not sure many girls like that too much.”

“No kidding,” Amy comments, sarcasm dripping from her voice as Hope shrugs it off.

“It’s not a big deal anyway Amy, it happens to the worst of us.”

“No one has made that mistake,” Amy says, “I’m sure of it.”

“But it was just one time,” Hope lets out, “it doesn’t mean it’d happen to you again.”

“Right,” Amy looks away, “can we talk about something else now?”

Hope nods quickly, understanding Amy’s discomfort, “Yeah.”

“It’s twenty to eight right now,” Amy says and Hope nods.

“Tell me more about how you met Molly,” Hope asks and instantly Amy’s face brightens.

“Oh!” She gushes, “Molly and I met during lunch in 2nd grade, she was reading Harry Potter in the corner during recess.”

“Let me guess,” Hope adds, “she guessed your Hogwarts house or something and instantly you thought she was psychic?”

Amy shrugs, “Pretty much, we bonded over books.”

“You seem like total nerds,” Hope jabs as a young man sets a receipt on the edge of the table, Hope goes to grab it, however Amy swipes it quickly. Hope’s jaw slackens as she stares at Amy with an expression purely of amusement.

“Got to be quicker than that,” Amy grins, as the woman shakes her head and grabs her jacket from the back of the chair.

“You said I was paying,” Hope frowns, and Amy shrugs.

“I changed my mind.”

“Well then,” Hope chuckles softly, “you got me this time.”

Amy pays without another word.

“It’s only eight fifteen,” Amy observes as they walk out of the diner, Hope hums as she presses the button on her key fob causing the lights to flicker, she swings open the car door and climbs in, pushing the key into the ignition and turning it, making the car rumble to life.

“Didn’t you ride here?” Hope asks, Amy shakes her head.

“I decided not to, I didn’t feel up to it.”

“Well, get in then nerd.”

Amy stays there for a moment, mentally debating what action to take. On one hand, she could bolt away from this situation, or she could just trust her gut and get in the damn car.

“You getting in?” Hope asks, Amy snaps back to reality, Hope’s hands grip the wheel, and Amy nods, taking a deep breath before climbing into the passenger seat, the car was relatively clean, apart from an empty MTN Dew can in the center console.

“Do you care if I swing around to my place really fast?” Hope cranes her neck to stare out the back window as she pulls the car out of it’s parking space and onto the street, “since we have time and all, I need to grab something.”

“You mean you don’t live on campus?” Amy asks, as they start to turn into a direction of a modern apartment complex.

“Nah,” Hope laughs softly, “I could never stand having a roommate in that close of proximity,” Hope pulls into an empty spot and kills the ignition, looking over to Amy, “you don’t have to come in if you don’t want to, I’ll be right back.”

Amy quickly shakes her head as Hope starts to move to unfasten her seatbelt and open the door, “I’ll come with you.”

“Cool,” Hope says as they walk up a flight of stairs and stop outside a door, she fumbles with her keyring before unlatching the door with a silver one.

The apartment is modern, it’s simple, but completely bare, there’s a sofa, and a small television, but the door to the right of the entrance makes Hope turns.

“This is actually my room,” Hope says, and pushes a different key into the doorknob, twisting it to reveal the bedroom.

“Do you share this place then?” Amy asks.

“Yeah,” Hope says, “but the owner is currently trying to find new tenants for this space.”

“So it’s just you right now?” Amy asks, Hope gives a hum as she unplugs a laptop and fits it into a messenger bag as well as a few notebooks, “there’s usually four to a space, but we all share the kitchen and the main room.”

Hope’s bed is small, not child size, but it’s not a king either. It’s a double that spans next to the doorway, pressed against the wall with calming blue and grey sheets. It comforts Amy strangely, while a framed band poster hanging over the desk, it’s signed in four different spaces in Sharpe, a ticket stub in the bottom corner.

“It’s not much,” Hope comments, “but you don’t need much to make you happy.”

“It’s eight thirty now,” Amy points out and Hope nods quickly.

“We should get going,” she adds.

Though neither of them make an effort to move, instead they stay glued to the spot, Hope adjusting the strap around her neck and Amy staring at her beside the nightstand. Hope’s Converse against the stark white carpet, and Amy swears time must be moving in slow motion by now, because all she wants to do is for Hope to move in her direction.

“Yeah,” Amy feels herself whisper, “we probably should.”

Amy’s feet somehow move, and end up in front of Hope, Hope’s eyes stay focused on her face, ignoring her instinct to reach out and cup her cheek… Despite wanting to… She wasn’t going to kiss Amy… Not unless she wanted her to.

Though now Amy is staring up at her, with eyes that draw her into a sense of yearning. Hope will deny the pull in her stomach as Amy carefully stares at her, it’s almost as if she’s staring through her entire soul, and it intimidates her.

Amy’s hands are reaching out, grabbing a few tassels that hang off of Hope’s jacket, cupping her cheek with the other, her eyes involuntary close as Amy pulls her down. It’s not by force, Amy gives an option for Hope to stop her movements.

_As if Hope would want to though?_

It’s like Hope was blind before, with Amy’s lips that send messages encrypted in a code that Hope can somehow understand, she’s not sure where Amy’s lips end, and hers begin, but she knows that Amy’s smell is intoxicating, and she could drown in a bottle of her perfume and feel immediately at peace with everything.

Amy pulls away, with eyes still closed, and Hope thinks that she’s in a trance, it makes her smile softly.

“Are you okay?” She feels herself whisper, and Amy slowly nods, blinking her eyes open, and it makes Hope’s smile widen, “we should go now.”

Amy nods slowly, “Okay.”

Though all Hope really wanted to do was to feel Amy’s lips across her own again, the feeling was one that awakened something she never knew existed within her soul, it’s an emotion full of happiness and love, but it surely couldn’t be mutual… For Amy still wasn’t her girlfriend… and it still broke her heart.

_That was the first time she swore she’d never leave her alone._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UMPTH THERE IT IS… THEY FREAKING KISSED… IT WAS BEAUTIFUL AND POETIC… AND HOPE IS UTTERLY WHIPPED… IN THE FORM OF AMY FREAKING ANTSLER… OH… BUT AMY WILL CLAIM THAT IT WAS A MISTAKE… AND THAT IT MEANT NOTHING… BUT HOPE WILL REIN HER BACK DOWN TO EARTH… BECAUSE AMY IS DESPERATELY WANTING THIS AS MUCH AS HOPE… THOUGH SHE’S HESITANT TO ADMIT IT… LOVE SCARES HER. 
> 
> I’M SO… NOT SORRY…. I’M LISTENING TO BLACKBEAR’S COVER OF ONE HEADLIGHT AND LITERATELY FEELING ALL OF THE ANGST, HOPE WILL END UP BEING GRUMPY ONCE AMY EVIDENTLY REJECTS HER… THOUGH… NOT GONNA SPOIL IT… BECAUSE IT’S JUST GOOD… 
> 
> …NOT SURE ABOUT HOW I FEEL ABOUT AMY BEING AN AGGRESSOR, IT STILL MAKES ME A PINCH UNEASY.  
> ALSO… YES HOPE WILL END UP ON A MOTORCYCLE… IT’LL BE INTRODUCED LATER IN THE STORY AFTER THEY GET TOGETHER… WELL… RIGHT BEFORE… I’VE GOT CHAPTERS UP TO 9 WRITTEN, JUST NOT QUITE EDITED YET. I’M ABLE TO COMMIT MY TIME MORE BECAUSE I’M DONE WITH SCHOOLING FOR NOW.   
> ALSO NOT SPONSORED BY GARFIELD… LOVED THOSE COMICS AS A KID TBH.


	5. Lately you are dreaming you're in love with me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TOTALLY JUST… CHILLING OUT. 1975 IS BLASTING ON MY STEREO AND I’M ADORING IT.   
> SINCERITY IS SCARY IS REALLY INSPIRATIONAL, JUST LIKE… IMAGINING THEM TO THIS. 
> 
> “Why can't we be friends when we are lovers?  
> 'Cause it always ends with us hating each other  
> Instead of calling me out, you should be pulling me in.”

> _“As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

CHAPTER 5.)

“Amy, it’s after one in the morning,” Molly’s voice drowns out the nerves of Amy mind, she’s been lying in bed for practically the entire night, staring at her ceiling, it’s been one of those nights. The nights that make you fear what could happen once the sun rises, the nights where you can’t fall asleep because your terrified of what’ll happen if you dream, one of those nights.

“I’m sorry,” Amy says, and as much as the words feel fitting, there’s no words that could explain why her heart’s racing.

Because ever since she got out of Hope’s rusty Toyota, her heart has been lodged in the back of her throat, she ignored Hope’s text after her last lecture, and just stayed in her dorm room.

Abigail, as much as a friend she was. she wasn’t Molly.

Yes, Amy knew that it was late, she knew that Molly’s been sleeping from the annoyed pitch in her voice, and evidently, she knows Annabelle is now awake from the chatter on the other line.

“Is everything alright?”

And for the first time, Amy feels herself break, she wants to admit how she feels, but she knows Molly wouldn’t get it, the other day Amy was telling her how much in love she was with Hope, but now? It feels different, like the world is slowly becoming clearer, and it terrifies her, because she doesn’t actually want to lose the good thing she’s got.

“No,” she feels herself say, and instantly Molly’s more awake, a shifting on the other line and a yawn.

“What’s wrong?” Molly says, and Amy just vomits it all out, tells her how she and Hope kissed, how terrified she is, how despite wanting it, she doesn’t want to fuck it up, but it feels like she already has.

And Molly’s there for her, telling her to follow her heart, to not let go of what she wants, despite being scared.

_“Because this isn’t Ryan anymore Amy, this is someone who actually likes you, and you like her back, so why shouldn’t you be with her?”_

And Amy doesn’t know why, she doesn’t have a reason, except for unanswered texts on her end, and the feeling low in her gut that’s begging her to go back to Hope. Like an awakened instinct, she wants to be with Hope, but it all scares her, she doesn’t want to hurt either of them.

_“You never know Amy; Hope could be it for you.”_

And Amy never thought of someone being an ‘it,’ because she’s not thinking ahead about what could be possible if she simply let these insane fears go, she doesn’t even know what she wants, does she want Hope?

Granted her heart screamed at her to go after it, but what does logic think? Where did that stand when Molly fell in love with Jared and swore that he was the one? That wasn’t like this, Amy wasn’t Molly, sure, people always associated them together, but they were two separate people, this was Amy.

She was Amy, this couldn’t be the same outcome, it’s like one in a million odds that it could end up differently from Molly and Jared, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to try to defy them.

Because despite being like Molly, Amy was someone who wanted to prove things wrong, defy gender roles, and protest for what she _felt._

“I’m just so scared Molly, like, I’ve never been like this with anyone.”

Molly’s silent for a moment, “and that’s okay Amy, we all need to start somewhere, think about how gay marriage was legalized, it took years for it to happen, but it got done, because of one thing, and do you know what that is?”

Amy instantly smiles softly, “it’s persistence.”

“Exactly,” Molly says, “if you want something, you’ll go after it, and if you don’t get it, you fight until you do.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Amy smiles softly.

“It’s mutual girl,” Molly laughs softly, “what are you going to do?”

Amy blinks her eyes open to the ceiling for a moment before taking a deep breath, because despite knowing almost everything, she didn’t know how this was going to work, she didn’t know if Hope was it, and uncertainty was something to be feared, unknown uncontrolled variables.

Hope was unknown and uncontrollable, not that Amy would have it any other way, because Hope was perfect the way she was, but not knowing what Hope knew, was something that Amy couldn’t help but wonder.

_‘I wonder what she’s thinking about right now’_

“Hope for the best,” Amy says softly, “try not to panic, and just…” Amy lets herself trail off for a minute, “…fall in love with Hope.”

“But if you get married,” Molly says, and the last word makes Amy cringe, “I’m your maid of honor.”

“Who says anything about that?” Amy scoffs, “I haven’t even gotten through the first date yet, how would you expect me to propose?”

“Who said it’d be you proposing?” Molly jabs, “if there’s no sense of proper gender roles, either of you could propose, right?”

Amy thinks for a moment, the thought of Hope proposing to her, and she feels her face heat up for a minute, it’s too early to be picturing Hope like that, too early to be expecting anything.

“I’m not sure if I actually want to get married anyway Moll,” Amy says, and Molly gasps in shock before covering it with a cough.

“It’s your life,” She says, “you might want to take that up with your fiancé anyway.”

“People thought you were my wife.”

“Well,” Molly says, “as much as I love you Amy,” she laughs softly, “you’re not exactly my type.”

“Exactly how I feel,” Amy smiles softly.

“Are you feeling better now?” Molly asks, and instantly Amy yawns, she feels herself want to sleep, her eyes yearn to droop shut, her arms wish to hold onto something other than the pillow, “I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yeah,” Amy laughs softly, “thanks.”

“It’s what best friends are for,” Molly says.

“I miss you Moll,” Amy yawns softly, “I wish I could go and see you.”

“Maybe during Thanksgiving,” Molly says, Amy hears her shift back and she knows that she laid back down, “try to get some good sleep Ames.”

“I will,” Amy feels herself say, “love you,” she yawns and hears Molly repeat it, instantly nodding off as the call ends. Her phone slips beside her head as she buries the side of her face in soft cloth.

* * *

Nest week.

It’s full of lectures, and a lack of Hope. The last text on Amy’s phone reads from last Wednesday afternoon, and she’s still waiting.

Amy doesn’t know what she’s exactly waiting for, but she’s waiting for an answer on what she should do. She finds herself sitting on the front step of Columbia’s dorm entrance, a beat up copy of _The Fault In Our Stars_ in her hands, she needs to be at her Woman’s Health lecture across campus in twenty minutes, but there’s one part of her that wants to finish this last line.

There’s something about reading outside that’s always seemed peaceful, the soft breeze and the cardinals. It’s almost the end of autumn however, so leaves litter the pavement. There’s more of a bite to the breeze now, and the patched jean jacket does wonders to protect her from it.

The book is a love story, it’s the one that she chose for the club, and to Molly’s delight, she knows how silly it seems, how Hazel and Gus feel as if they’re in their own little world, so much so that they don’t even notice the part where they’re walking grenades.

Cancer, it’s something that Hazel has, purely for the author’s discrepancy in love stories, because like all love, it’ll end in a sea of wanton yearning, wanting, wishing for more.

And Amy thinks about what it’d be like if Hope and she had a love story, one that’s different, where no one needs to fear death, no one needs to be perfect, but the world feels real and human. She’s jealous of the fact that Hazel feels so perfect within Gus’s eyes, that she doesn’t need to worry about being better than she already is, and she wonders, what that would be like if Hope and she were imperfect and in love.

She allows herself to picture it, as she’s typing everything on her small laptop, taking notes about the lecture, letting her mind divulge in the thoughts about being in unrestrained, uninhibited love, and Amy finds herself never wanting to leave the daydream.

* * *

She texts Hope, after the two hour lecture and twenty page Word Doc about how woman’s rights have developed through the years. She’s not sure what to actually say at first, but the fact is, she really wants to be with Hope. Despite the nerves in her stomach, she feels the pull in her gut that makes her know that she isn’t crazy.

_‘I’m sorry, I’ve been busy. How are you handling classes?’_

It’s short, and almost makes Amy want to shy away at the fact that it seems like she’s forgetting that she’s kissed this woman, and she’s kissed her back. Amy wouldn’t know where to start, Molly had always helped start these groundbreaking conversations that ended with insane results. There’s one part of Amy however, that prays that there is an ounce of Molly’s undignified confidence somewhere in her general mindset.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, Amy would’ve dropped it, if it wasn’t for unexplained death grip she had.

_‘I’ve been good.’_

Hope has apparently gone silent, Amy can tell from the short response, and it pains her.

_‘Would you like to go for coffee?’_

Amy stares at the screen for a good five minutes before she rests it on the pavement beside her, she starts to make the motions to grab her book from her backpack. It’s a cloth-like hiking bag, with iron on patches and buttons about LGBTQ pride and comedic phrases. There’s a Columbia patch on the top cover, and Amy loosens the drawstring before flipping it open and pulling it out again.

When the sun starts to set, Amy closes the book and checks her phone.

‘ _Read’_

It’s something that Amy’s confused about until she realizes it’s meaning, Hope left it on read. It instantly makes something unfurl within her stomach, she wants to vomit, and then scream.

She’s frustrated, she wants to say something, but she doesn’t know what Hope would say, if Hope would say anything at all.

Maybe _this_ is why it scared her so much?

Amy walks into her dorm room and grabs her bike from the corner, it’s thin aluminum frame, chipping forest green paint and worn hand grips make it more humbling to the common eye. Leading it down the dorm steps, she peddles off campus. Her bag slung over her back as she goes to the place, she knew Hope would be.

* * *

“Hi,” Emily leads her to a booth and sets the menu in front of her, Amy simply tugs her laptop from the bag and plugs it into a nearby outlet, “I’ll be your waitress tonight.”

Amy glances across the diner and finds a broad frame by a table of four, wearing the similar getup as Emily, “water please?”

“Certainly,” Emily gives a smile, bringing a pitcher as well as an empty cup back to Amy, she fills it.

“Do you happen to know the Wi-Fi password?” Amy asks and Emily clears her throat before scrawling it down on a napkin, “thanks,” Amy smiles.

“Anything else I can get you?”

“You wouldn’t happen to know if Hope was working tonight, would you?”

Emily purses her lips and looks behind her, shifting her weight from her left to right leg, “Yeah, I can get her for you.”

“Thank you,” Amy gives a soft smile before turning to bring up the Word Doc from earlier.

She’s about halfway through the second paragraph when Hope clears her throat, she’s towering over her table, she looks upset, almost angry. Amy can’t quite read the expression on Hope’s lips, but she knows that it’s not in her favor.

“You asked for me?”

It’s dry, and it strikes a nerve in Amy, a pang in her heart.

“You never responded to me.”

“I didn’t want to,” Hope says.

“Then you should’ve told me you didn’t want to,” Amy’s shoulders slump, she knows she’s in major trouble, Hope isn’t happy.

“Maybe,” Hope says, “but maybe you’d like to know how it feels to be avoided and ignored.”

“I didn’t know what to say.” Amy presses.

“Say anything,” Hope says, “anything is better than ignoring me Amy.”

Hope shakes her head before turning to walk away, Amy simply clears her throat before swallowing, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Hope spins on her head and rolls her eyes, “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I wanted to talk to you too? Or were you too busy getting cold feet?”

“It’s not my fault,” Amy frowns, they’re attracting eyes, and she knows Hope knows.

“So who’s fault is it then? It sure as Hell isn’t mine.”

“Why are you so mad at me anyway?” Amy asks, Hope scoffs, tucking her pen in her ear.

“You just don’t get it Amy,” Hope shakes her head, “I’m hopelessly in love with you, you end up kissing me, then avoid me for a week and a half. What am I supposed to think?”

“That I’m scared,” Amy says, and Hope shakes her head.

“Well,” Hope says, “tell me when you’ve made up your mind on what you want from me.”

Hope turns on her heel and Amy’s at loss for words, “You’re just going to walk away from me?”

“In case you haven’t noticed,” Hope clears her throat, “I’m working.”

Amy’s shoulders slump as she downs the rest of the water and starts to wrap up her charger, powering her laptop off, she slings her bag over her shoulder and rides back to her dorm.

_‘I’m sorry if I hurt you, I didn’t mean to._ ’ She writes, and turns off the notifications for her phone, plugging it in and spreading her limbs out.

She feels the tears brim her eyes, rolling onto her side and holds her spare pillow. She doesn’t bother to change, or brush her teeth, she just wants to lay there… If anything…. She wants Hope to be beside her.

**_Maybe there was a reason that not all love stories were written._ **

_She cries herself to sleep that night._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FEEL SO... UNCOORDINATED AND DISTRAUGHT ABOUT THIS…. NOT SAYING THAT THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE EXCITING OR WHATEVER… HOPE IS JUST BEING HER ACTUAL BITCH SELF… THEY’LL MAKE UP… DON’T WORRY.


	6. Fuck your California dreams, get away from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HERE YOU GO MY LOVLIES…. YES… YOU BET YOUR ASSES I LOVED WRITING THIS SHIT…

> _“If you’re not scared, you’re not taking a chance. And if you’re not taking a chance, then what the hell are you doing?” — Ted Mosby_

* * *

CHAPTER 6.)

“There’s a party at Joshua Peters tonight,” Abigail says, Amy simply hums as she types something for a paper, ignoring her, “you’re coming with me.”

Amy looks up, “What?”

“I don’t want to see your ass moping around anymore,” She says, grabbing her coat and walking out of the door.

* * *

The party is loud, blasting some rap song by one of the people who had ‘Lil’ in front of some inanimate object for their stage name.

Amy can’t think, there’s a pool in the backyard, and people surrounding it. She spots Hope from the side of it, drinking a beer, white V-neck shirt with black ripped jeans. She isn’t sure if Hope sees her.

“Is that Hope then?”

Amy nods, Abigail clears her throat before drinking the rest of the drink in her Solo cup.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to go over there and talk to her?”

“No,” Amy shakes her head, there’s a guy on her left and a girl on her right, her shirt’s damp, and it shows inked skin beneath it.

“She looks like a player.”

“She isn’t,” Amy shakes her head, she’s clearly ran the chances of this scenario being true.

Hope’s legs are dunked in the pool, jeans pulled up over calves, and she laughs about something. Amy can’t quite make out what they say, but Hope’s getting up and tapping both on the shoulder before walking in Amy’s direction.

If Hope notices Amy, she doesn’t stop, Amy watches as the guy from before wraps his arm around the girl’s shoulder before Amy summarizes that maybe open relationships were Hope’s thing.

_‘C’mon then Antsler, don’t be an idiot. You believed she liked you, why on earth would she pull that?’_

* * *

Amy’s bursting through the bathroom near the back of the house instantaneously, crowd anxiety dwelling in the back of her mind.

She needed to get away from it all…

She’s struggling to compose herself, because despite how she felt about Hope, she was a goner.

_“I thought I locked that,”_

“Well apparently you didn’t,” the voice is female, she can smell marijuana behind her, it’s strong and she takes a deep breath before turning around.

“Oh, it’s you,” Hope’s eyes narrow as she takes another drag of her joint, clearly unimpressed by Amy’s presence.

“I was looking for you,” Amy frowns, bracing her hands on the sink behind her before looking down at the floor.

“At lot of people are,” Hope mumbles out, exhaling the smoke through an air vent near the ceiling, “What do you want Amy?” She asks dryly.

Amy feels the last inch of her composure snap, adrenaline courses through her veins as she stares at Hope’s eyes, she’s forgotten her filter, letting her mind speak for itself. Maybe it was the secondhand smoke, Amy claims that it was that, because she knew deep down, she couldn’t do this alone.

“You know…” Amy snaps, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” Hope blinks a few times, “I could give you a list,” she comments, holding up her index finger before narrowing her eyes, “one is, your ruining my high.”

“Like I give a shit?”

“Look at the mouth on you,” Hope shakes her head, mumbling an amused ‘wow.’

“You have the audacity to not text me, after I fucking apologized.”

“Saying 'sorry' doesn't always make everything right,” Hope takes another drag and clears her throat, “excuse me for being sick and tired of waiting around for you to make up your mind.”

Hope’s flicks the joint to the floor and stubs it with her foot, tossing it in the waste bin beside the toilet. She practically towers over Amy in front of the sink, and Amy strangely feels safe, despite the fierce glare.

“Well you’re just a fucking hot girl who peaked in high school.”

Hope’s snort makes Amy want to shrink down, “Really now?”

“Y-Yeah,” Amy’s losing herself, completely forgetting the fact that Hope is arguing with her about her being a complete coward, despite everything, this almost feels right, getting a reaction from Hope after days of silence.

“That’s interesting, considering it was you who kissed me first Amy.”

Amy feels her feet shuffle forward, Hope’s leaning back against the doorframe, she looks upset, and clearly annoyed.

“So what if I did?” Amy snaps, Hope simply shakes her head, stepping forward, their bodies inches apart, Amy’s face tilts up to keep Hope’s eyes.

“Then tell me something Amy,” Hope spits, “tell me….” Hope leans forward, and it terrifies Amy how close Hope is now, “did you like kissing me?”

“Why are you doing this?” She practically whimpers out, despite everything else around her, the pounding music, the loud jeering from down the hall, it all makes her want to vomit. _She’s so nervous._

Almost like senior year Déjà vu all over again with that girl she can’t ever seem to remember the name of.

“Kissing the hot girl who peaked in high school.”

Hope’s arms are on either side of Amy’s, knuckles white, breath hot, and Amy can feel a shiver as it creeps down her spine. Her voice low, hinting at something unknown and foreign, and it makes Amy’s body react involuntarily, knees wanting to buckle, head spinning.

Hope’s lips rest beside her ear, breath tickling her lobe, and she swears her heart will explode if she doesn’t move from this spot. After everything, Amy can’t say anything, she doesn’t know what to say, struggling to control her emotions, when all they want to do is implode.

“Answer me,” Hope practically growls, Amy’s eyes nervously slam shut, she swallows, tilting her neck back involuntarily.

“I’m….” it’s airy and quivering, she’s making a conscious effort to remember to breathe, “I…”

_“Amy.”_

Hope’s tone quickly shifts from anger, to something purely of desperation, and it confuses her, it causes her to snap back to reality, feeling the bass as it rattles the walls.

“Why are you so fucking confusing?” She feels herself scold, and instantly Hope pulls back to connect their eyes, she can see something beneath Hope’s eyes that speaks of fear, like she’s scared of something.

“Tell me you liked it,” Hope says, “if you don’t, you’re a liar.”

“And if I do,” Amy says, above a whisper, “that makes this more complicated.”

“Why does it need to be?”

“It doesn’t,” Amy finishes, “it’s just…” her voice trails off as her eyes scan Hope’s face, “I’ve never been this way with anybody, and it scares me.”

“Then let me protect you,” Hope says, “let me show you that your insane for not trying.”

“Why?” Amy says, “you realize, this isn’t going to be easy.”

“Nothing good ever is,” Hope nods softly, “but I know that I want you,” and instantly it feels as if Amy’s mind has short circuited at those words, sure, they’ve been said in every rom-com movie with a sappy unbelievable love story, but this was her own, and it felt ultimately real and believable, though, despite everything Amy swears that she’ll wake up at any moment, and be forced to go through a different outcome of this, “and I know…” Hope begins, “I know you feel something for me too.”

“So what if I do?” Amy states, “why is that important?”

“Because,” Hope says, “It gives you a reason on why you should be with me.”

“How do you know we should?” Amy shoots, “how do you know we won’t end up just like them?”

“Because…” Hope laughs softly, “I want to try.”

And the fact of trying makes everything more alluring, more reasonable.

The fact that if they didn’t, then it would be pointless to even be around each other. Amy feels herself melt to the ground, like hot wax under Hope’s gaze, but in all honesty… she thinks she strangely likes that feeling.

The feeling of being wanted by another person just as badly.

“I’m not…” Amy bites her inner cheek, considering what could possibly happen if she acknowledged that the feeling in her chest swells at every chance to be around Hope.

“Are you not sure?” Hope says, stepping back from Amy, and it makes Amy’s grip tighten on the porcelain vanity, “or do you not want this?”

Hope reaches out with her right hand, Amy practically flinches as it rushes near her, stopping short to touch Amy’s cheek. Two fingers splayed across her jawline. Hope’s palm feels like fire, warming her skin. She holds the side of Amy’s face in her hand, like she’s breakable.

There’s something in Hope’s eyes. Like an unanswered question, a riddle, a ‘ _if I kiss you now, will you run from me?’_

But Amy doesn’t answer, Hope lowers her face, so their foreheads connect, and instantly Amy feels the pull low in her gut.

She doesn’t remember saying the words, but Hope’s eyes flick open upon them.

_‘Kiss me.’_

All she can feel are lips, searing against her own, like sparks flying, Hope inhales deeply.

Hope’s lips taste of beer, it tastes sweet against Amy’s mouth, and it makes her head spin.

She swears she could get drunk on the taste of her lips alone.

Her arms wrap themselves around Hope’s lower back instantaneously. She doesn’t know how she feels about Hope, but she knows that she feels something, and it sends shock waves to her heart.

An unanswered question of _‘what if we made it?’_

Because Amy knows she wouldn’t tire of it, being on Hope’s arm.

Hope’s lifting her up to sit on the vanity now, settling between her legs, and Amy pulls her closer. Flush against her. Air feels thick, almost palpable, until lips pause against her own.

“Hey.”

It’s mumbled against her, and Amy exhales before Hope leans her forehead back onto Amy’s.

“Yeah?” It sounds high pitched and airy, and it makes Hope smile softly.

“As much as I would like this,” Hope whispers, “I don’t want this to be the start.”

“Your just high right now,” Amy mumbles, “you’re going to start getting munchies in a bit.”

“Maybe,” Hope laughs softly, flicking her eyes open to meet Amy’s, they’re dark and scream at something within Amy’s aura. “But I really want to be professional about this Amy.”

“Meaning?”

“No one night hookups at parties,” Hope whispers, “I want it to be formal and moving.”

“Oh,” Amy almost laughs, like she’s forgotten that Hope mentioned that she was in love with her.

“I really like you,” Hope mumbles softly, “what’s your last name?”

“Antsler.”

Hope hums softly, “Amy Antsler.”

Amy’s eyes shift up, and meet Hope’s wry ones, “Is that amusing?”

“If it was, would I be doubled over laughing?”

“Yeah,” Amy gives a smile.

“Then it isn’t,” Hope whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind Amy’s ear, “Conrad.”

“Hope Conrad?”

“Me,” Hope nods softly.

“I like it,” Amy whispers, and Hope moves so that Amy can get down from the vanity.  
  


It feels different, being without Hope’s touch, and Amy finds it displeasing and upsetting all at once, like a tidal wave, she seems to crave the instant connection they just shared moments before, however at the end of the day, she respects Hope, because deep down, she’s falling in love with her, in a way that’s mysterious and unusual.

They aren’t two people who have cancer, like Hazel and Gus, but they do have their own problems beneath the masks of their composure. Amy thinks that’s what makes a love story meaningful and compelling, the fact that people have different emotions despite showing one strong connection for each other.

****

**_Maybe Hope and her have a love story worth writing after all._ **

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY BABIES MADE UP… ALSO… KIND OF THOUGHT I WAS ACTUALLY GOING TO WIND UP ACTUALLY WRITING ANGRY WEIRD SMUT… AND I WAS LIKE… UH… UH… UM… MAYBE I SHOULD NOT… BECAUSE THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A LOVE STORY… 
> 
> (ALL THE CHAPTER TITLES ARE LYRICS FROM SONGS BTW.)
> 
> THE FACT THAT HOPE LIFTS HER ONTO THE VANITY, DOES WONDERS FOR MY IMAGINATION ON WHAT COULD BE… BUT LIKE… HOPE IS NOT ONE TO BE LIKE… JUMPING AT THE OPPORTUNITY TO SLEEP WITH AMY, BECAUSE THIS NEEDS STRUCTURE… AND THAT IS NOT… HOW I WANT TO TURN THIS FIC INTO… 
> 
> AS MUCH AS I DON’T DOUBT MY ABILITY TO WRITE THOSE STORIES ANYWAY… 
> 
> WAS LISTENING PVRIS’S “NIGHTMARE.”


	7. No one has ever cared for me, as much as you do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, BUT LIKE… IN ALL HONESTY… CAN I GET SOME PROPS ABOUT ALL OF THE RESEARCH I’M DOING ABOUT COLUMBIA AND COLLEGE IN GENERAL? 
> 
> (WATCH NONE OF IT ACTUALLY BE ACCURATE WITH MY LUCK.)
> 
> ALSO… IF YOU’VE NEVER SLEPT ON A COUCH WITH A COMFORTER… THEN WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING WITH YOUR LIFE? LIKE REALLY? C’MON… I WILL ACTUALLY KILL TO HAVE THIS FLUFF AS AN ACTUAL LIVING BREATHING RELATIONSHIP. 
> 
> BECAUSE… HOLY SHIT THIS IS SO ADORABLE… AND AMY IS STILL AN IDIOT AT HEART, SORRY IF IT SEEMS LIKE THIS BREAKS CHARACTER A BIT, TIME HAS PAST SINCE THE LAST CHAPTER, SO THEY’VE WARMED UP A BIT.
> 
> ALSO… FOR ALL OF YOU PEOPLE WHO CELEBRATE, HAPPY PRIDE MONTH, DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE GAY.

> _“But I believe in true love, you know? I don't believe that everybody gets to keep their eyes or not get sick or whatever, but everybody should have true love, and it should last at least as long as your life does.”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

CHAPTER 7.)

_[November]_

“How are you feeling about midterms?”

Amy looks up from her computer and gives a shrug in Abigail’s direction. The curtain was removed a near the end of October, because Amy clumsily ripped it from the rod and never got around to fixing it.

Abigail however, ignored everything and despite being amused by the experience, she was alright with seeing Amy’s face.

“They’re just midterms,” Amy mumbles, nonchalantly, “they suck, and we get through them.”

“Are you seeing Hope tonight?”

“Probably, she gets off at ten.”

“Are you two going to… you know…?” Abigail’s voice trails off and Amy feels her face heat up as she looks over to her roommate.

She clears her throat before laughing nervously, “No, Hope is big on being polite on that matter.”

Sure, two months of being around each other brought the whole dilemma of _‘would they? Should they?’_ but despite the tension between them, Hope never pressed for more than what she felt comfortable with, and it amazed her, how controlled it all seemed.

Amy understood that Hope wanted to respect boundaries if they existed, anyway, but those fell alongside with the doubt after Joshua Peters’ party back at the beginning of September. Now it’s almost Thanksgiving, and they’ve practically gone on fifty dates. Amy loves it, being wanted, but they don’t bother on putting a label on it, probably because Amy’s still strangely scared to do that mentally. 

She’s emotionally conflicted around Hope, and still doesn’t know what to classify everything,

Hope knows almost all of her secrets, including the one with that girl at Nick’s party back in 2019, and she still didn’t judge her poorly on it.

Amy feels that maybe Hope is indeed what Molly mentioned. She could be _“The One.”_

Molly thinks it’s romantic, Hope being all gentlemen like, disregarding gender propositions and instead, becoming the physical embodiment of a man from a romance movie.

Amy thought it was romantic too, until Hope excused herself from all chances of things progressing past kissing.

“You two are so…” Abigail hums for a second, “sickening.”

“How so?” Amy asks.

“You make me want to fall in love.”

Okay, not the response Amy expected, but Amy’s not complaining, it feels almost surreal being with Hope.

Hope, who is almost too good to be true, but still.

It cannot be love, this must not be what love feels like, if it was, she knew the stories got it so wrong, because love is… Like a sky full of stars, magically aligning for one evening out of your entire life, that’s how rare it supposedly was, one out of a billion. It couldn’t be that obvious that this was it, this wasn’t love, this was just something tingly and warm.

That’s how her parents met though, because they miraculously found that one, so it wasn’t exactly impossible, just unlikely.

“Hey now,” Amy scoffs, “don’t be all weird on me.”

“I’m weird all the damn time bitch.”

“Right,” Amy mutters, “whatever you say.”

“Anyway,” Abigail says, “are you doing anything after midterms?”

Amy thinks for a minute before pursing her lips, “I’m not actually sure.”

“I’m probably going to fly back home to see Jerry and my pops.”

“That’s nice,” Amy says, turning back to the laptop in front of her, “now if you don’t mind,” Amy clears her throat, “I really need to finish up this paper before I head off to meet Hope.”

“Right, right.”

* * *

“Hey pretty girl,” Hope grins outside the diner, she ducks her head down and pecks Amy on the lips.

“Hi,” Amy practically melts in Hope’s gaze, giving a large grin as Hope wraps her arm around Amy’s shoulder and leads her to Hope’s Toyota.

“You want help putting your bike in my trunk?”

“I think I got it,” Amy says, lifting the hood and picking the thin frame up with some effort, Hope helps despite Amy’s words, claiming that she just wanted to make sure Amy was okay.

“What do you want to do tonight?” She asks, once inside the car.

Amy gives a hum as she tugs her seat belt on, “whatever you want to do.”

Hope chuckles and pushes her key into the ignition, the car rumbling to life as she pulls out of the parking spot and towards her apartment complex.

* * *

Amy plops herself beside Hope on the sofa, bowl of popcorn in hand, it’s after eleven on a Friday.

Hope thumbs the remote for her DVD player.

Since that first night in the diner, Amy’s learned much about Hope, and more of her interests have become Amy’s, but for some reason she wants to know more, wants to know everything there was to know about Hope and her life, it all oddly seemed fascinating. Amy wasn’t sure why.

“I feel like your only here because of my _How I Met Your Mother_ box set,” Hope laughs as the TV starts to broadcasts the episode.

“No,” Amy shakes her head, popping a popped kernel in her mouth, “I simply cannot get over how much trouble these guys create.”

Hope glances over at Amy with a large grin, “My dad actually used to watch this show with me after it came out, we loved it.”

“Oh!” Amy’s eyes widen, “that’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Hope smiles softly, “so who are you like the most?”

Amy raises a brow, “Like what character am I?”

“Yeah,” Hope nods.

“I like Lily.”

“She’s such a drama queen,” Hope smiles, “but yes, Lily is extremely entertaining.”

“What about you?” Amy asks, and Hope shrugs softly,

“Barney.”

Amy instantly shuffles away from Hope for a moment, setting the bowl between them, “How come?”

“His shenanigans? Everyone else is so boring.”

“Robin is awesome though,” Amy counters.

“I do admit, Robin Sparkles is something.”

“She is not something,” Amy shoots, “she is everything.”

“No,” Hope shakes her head, “your everything.”

“Stop,” Amy grins, “you don’t actually mean that.”

Hope’s forehead crinkles in a certain way that possesses the ability to make Amy’s heart momentarily stop.

She looks at Amy, with something incomprehensible her eyes, making Amy momentarily stunned at how clear it looks. It’s mysterious, yet somethings pulling beneath it, something resembling honesty and softness. 

On the TV, Robin is explaining to Marshall about Ted’s intervention regarding Zoey, and instantly Amy wants to laugh at how dramatic the conversation is because of Marshall’s Minnesota customs. 

Amy doesn’t realize Hope is now closer from her previous position, until she feels the pads of her fingers tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she didn’t even realize that she involuntarily broke eye contact.

“No,” Hope whispers softly, “I really do.”

“Really now?”

Amy swears that her heart might combust if Hope keeps this up, because despite how close she is, Amy can’t handle being this far away. She wishes she could reach out, tell her everything she wants to say, all the questions lingering at the back of her throat, but she can’t. _Maybe some boundaries are just never meant to be destroyed._

Hope hums softly, “Yes.”

Hope leaves after that, grabbing the comforter off of her bed and bringing it back over to drape across the two of them, they sit there together, the empty bowl between them, apart from the old maids in the bottom.

Amy’s head rests against Hope’s chest, her arm draped against the back of the couch.

 _‘Love shouldn’t be this easy, but what if it could be?’_ Amy thinks for a moment, evoking an image of Hope into her mind, making her smile softly, and lets herself fall into a soft sleep.

_Sometimes it’s better if you just don’t think too deeply into things._

* * *

Amy can swear that the pain in her neck when she wakes up at 2am is all worth it, Hope’s head is draped against the back of the couch as she snores softly, though it’s not exactly something that could be snoring, more like a soft whistle through her nose as she exhales. She feels herself falling even more for Hope, despite everything they’ve been through, she wonders how much longer she’ll feel this way. Neither of them have posted a label on what they were, and instantly Amy wonders what they should be, because there’s almost no doubt in her heart that she’s feels something deeply with Hope. _Love? Is it love?_

“Are you watching me sleep?”

“You look peaceful,” Amy whispers, the DVD player is repeating the title screen, and it annoys Amy despite the TV being a low volume.

“Thanks, your creepy.”

It takes a few minutes, and Amy’s almost positive that Hope has fallen back asleep, her breathing is even, Amy takes a deep breath before closing her eyes and resuming her original position beside Hope.

“Hope?”

Hope gives a soft hum, a barely awake hum. It’s one that strikes something within Amy, and Amy feels her heart clench, she’s sure that it’s definitely something more than what she anticipated, and the thought scares her to think about. So she doesn’t, because right now this feels nice, almost normal and natural. As if she belonged here because Hope was here with her.

“Do you want to take a road trip after midterms with me?”

“Sure, whatever,” Hope mumbles softly with a loud yawn, it’s not an annoyed one, but it’s one laced with sleep.

“I hope you don’t mind if I stay the night,” Amy whispers softly, turning her face into Hope’s shirt, and yawns softly. Her hands pull the comforter over her shoulders, as she moves her face closer to the collar of Hope’s shirt.

“Never do,” Hope mumbles softly, sighing. Her breathing evens out seconds later, and Amy’s positive that she’s fallen back asleep this time. The thought makes her want to smile, or possibly giggle like an absolute four-year old, because Hope in her most vulnerable states, seems to awake a strange feeling inside Amy’s chest.

One that’s overwhelming, but places a blanket of calmness over her mind. She doesn’t think about what this means, she knows it gets difficult if she does, so she just lays there, because it feels nice, and Amy would be lying if she said she wanted to move.

And that’s what it all should mean; all Amy needs to be happy. She avoids any negative thoughts and just focuses on how it feels, despite fearing feeling anything irrational or out of the usual. 

The soft rhythm of Hope’s breathing, _How I Met Your Mother_ , and a slow build to something that had indefinite potential, it sparks something inside of her gut, something that was a dead giveaway. _It’s going to be fine if she stays, so she does._

And maybe Amy didn’t care about being intimate with Hope, because being cared for like this was intimacy in its own way.

* * *

Amy calls Molly the nest morning.

Molly’s already started a whole scrapbook of things that they should do while together, and Hope listens from the kitchen, making pancakes…. _Thank you, Canada._

It’s amusing, watching Hope cook, she looks out of her element.

Though, Amy believes it to be extremely docile and humble, and it makes her heart twist in the same familiar way it did all those times before, because she knows deep down, she wants this… being around Hope in her most vulnerable states, however, deep down, she doesn’t know if she could possibly handle risking herself like that for another person, even if that was Hope.

_Ultimately imperfect, but beautiful Hope._

_Caring and understanding, but incredibly charismatic Hope Conrad._

_Oh, how Amy was a goner from the first words uttered by her lips._

“I made you breakfast,” Hope mumbles after the phone call, pressing a kiss to Amy’s forehead, as she tosses the phone to the side of the couch, it makes Amy swoon for a moment before she smiles at Hope.

“Your too much sometimes,” Amy whispers, when Hope pulls her into her lap, sighing as she buries her face in her hair.

Amy fights not to panic as her mind starts to race, because this is something she wants, yet fears. Hope is something beautiful and amazing, and Amy just wants to stay here in her touch. It burns like little fires, but without it, Amy thinks she might die.

“But you can oddly handle me Antsler.”

“That’s where your wrong,” Amy laughs softly, making Hope move to hold her at arm’s length for a moment, a smile tugging her lips.

And Amy’s heart momentarily ceases to function, Hope’s sparkle of mischief makes Amy want to follow that foreign feeling, wants to be everything she could possible be, but she doesn’t know if she could risk it,

Hope was too perfect to break, but her?

She couldn’t subject either of them to that madness because heartbreak was a bitch, and Amy didn’t need to experience it to know that it hurt. Practically every song on the radio sang about it, everyone talked about it.

Amy didn’t, she didn’t need to, Molly did it for her.

But most importantly, she knew she didn’t want to lose Hope, so she follows that feeling, only inches, because she doesn’t want to dive in head first into the lake, but she wants to, with every instinct screaming at her to do so.

She’s still fearing the thought of diving in, fully subjecting herself to that possibility, as much as it would be nice to. Amy doesn’t know how long Hope would want to keep this charade on.

So she follows the feeling inches, and it makes something twist inside her head, and the doubts immediately cease, she’s suddenly able to focus on what’s now, instead of worrying about the _‘what if’s.’_

“Is that right?”

“So right,” Amy sarcastically jabs, and Hope instantly holds a hand over her heart, mocking a sign of hurt.

“You wound me; you know that?”

“I know how to heal you though,” Amy leans her face near Hope, breath tickling her upper lip.

Because despite every waking sense of logic telling her to pause and reconsider, she wants this, she’s just too afraid to subject herself to admitting that completely.

“You do?” Hope’s voice raises an octave at that statement, and it sends Amy into a huge grinning mess.

And Hope’s smile turns into an oversized smirk, because she knows how Amy is, leaning her lips inches from her own before Hope is instantly leaning down to capture them, and it’s like the first time all over again, sparks fly, and Hope doesn’t know when this feeling will get old. She hopes deep down it’ll never end.

And Amy feels the same, despite everything inside of her chest falling into a sense of relief, but there’s still the soft wave of panic that moves inside of her mind. Like a fist tightened over her brain, it makes her nervous of making one wrong move, but at this point, It’s become muted.

It’s the adrenaline coursing through her veins, sending every follicle of hair into a standstill. _Because God it feels nice to be wanted._

So she enjoys it because she wants to.

Hope knows how it goes, so she just lets Amy feel what she wants, she doesn’t directly make anything more then what Amy feels she’s comfortable with. That doesn’t mean that Hope doesn’t want to play along, because underneath Amy’s thick skin, she’s amazing. Beyond compassionate, beyond anything Hope as ever wanted in another person.

She knows Amy doesn’t know what to exactly call this, so she’ll keep it without any labels, giving her pieces of what could possibly be, without being fully committed… Even if she already is. She’ll never admit that to Amy, despite wanting to be with her whenever she could.

She hopes Amy feels the same, because she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she let Amy slip away, they’re not really anything, but Hope wants them to be.

She wants all of Amy, she takes her out, but leaves her right where she started, because deep down she doesn’t want to fuck this up.

Hope knows deep down that this is a good thing, so she wants to be careful, Amy is like porcelain, breakable to the right movements, but beautiful enough to stare at for hours on end, and she knows deep down that Amy feels something strongly for her, so she won’t rush this.

“What do you want to do today?” Hope asks, pulling away from Amy after a minute.

“Don’t you have work at noon?”

“Yeah, but before that though,” Hope smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Amy’s cheek.

“Can we stay here for a little longer?” Amy whispers softly, and Hope hums.

After all, if Amy was Hope’s, then they had all the time in the world, and then some.

There’s a burning fire beneath the rubble of Hope’s mind, and it’ll keep burning as long as Amy commands it to, it’s dim, but it’ll always be there, burning.

It’d be hard to leave if Amy can’t make up her mind, but if they do pursue this, then Hope will chase this to the end of the earth. She can promise that.

_All Hope knows right now, is that she doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be able to make it sane._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I have up to chapter 10 written currently, so it’s dwelling down, sorry if it seems that this is trash right now, I’m editing alone, and I’m actually shit at editing, also, writing this while watching Booksmart, since quarantine, I’ve been watching it religiously… apart from when my dad’s around… because… you know. I’m working on fleshing out Hope’s father right now, and what will Christmas break look like, since I’ve never actually studied weather patterns between New York and California, it might seem shit, bear with me for that.  
> The motorcycle scene will come up, don’t hassle me, or else I might just give up, and I really don’t need that rn, because this story is actually turning out better than my average dumpster fire stories on my laptop. 
> 
> I pride myself in writing, so please don’t hesitate to tell me how much it sucks… XD


	8. Sometimes it's better if you think about it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned this ahead of time, but someone guessed that there was a trip arranged for Yale, and they were right. 
> 
> Good job outta you reader! :)
> 
> Brace yourself for impact, feelings await this chapter, also, I do want to say, I will try to update this daily, since I pretty much have been writing constantly, no promises though, but the three chapters will shorten down to one eventually, I’m just trying to get out as much as I have so I can just… not need to worry about trying to catch ya’ll up.
> 
> Once again, sorry this seems choppy and terrible, I’m editing this myself, and it’s a huge work in progress atm.
> 
> I’ll advocate for a beta whenever I finish the entire thing… Again… Still am trying to figure out where that is, probably finish through Freshman year, and then flick to the point where both are graduating and what they’re both currently doing… Not a spoiler, nothing is for certain currently. All I know is that I will finish this fic and that there will be a happy ending, don’t you guys worry, I’m not one to abandon fics.
> 
> Usually I write them and edit them as a whole before publishing them, because I always like the thought of not needing to make any of you guys wait, but I know that you guys desperately want more content, believe me, I do too, so here I am, doing my best to help fill that void.
> 
> As always, please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of this, I love to hear it.

> _“Maybe this isn’t a breakup. Maybe this is just two friends getting back together.” — Barney Stinson_

* * *

CHAPTER 8.)

The day after Amy’s last midterm, she and Hope begin to prepare Hope’s Toyota. Hope manages to take off of work for the time being, and Amy’s instantly thankful that she had met Hope in the first place, because she’s totally into the thought of taking a road trip.

The car is a beater, it’s got over 175 thousand miles on it, it’s in great shape for it being Hope’s first car back in Yonkers at 17.

The roads look okay, forecast calling for the first snow sometime later in the week. Hope on the other hand, does not trust newscaster to determine her outfit, she prepares for anything.

Global warming does exist, to Hope’s denial.

It isn’t far. Only about an hour and a half, but Hope doesn’t care, because even if it’s a short road trip, she still wants it to be perfect, it’s important to Amy.

They leave a little after ten in the morning on Saturday and incisively get there in one piece.

* * *

Amy reclines her seat to take a nap after Hope turns onto NY-94, their coats in the backseat.

Hope occasionally looking over to Amy’s rising and falling chest, and in turn, holding onto the steering wheel tighter, resisting the urge to want to reach out and grab Amy’s hand that was stretched over her stomach.

She wasn’t one to ever really be sentimental or to be cheesy, but the fact was, Amy looked peaceful, and Hope secretly wanted to capitalize on this moment as much as she could.

Hope had no doubt that Amy would exactly _reject_ it if she did make a motion to do that, however, Hope desperately didn’t want to roust Amy.

So she blatantly ignores everything within her stomach, and just stares at the road in front of her, the sound of Queen heightening her apprehension.

* * *

Avoiding the potholes on the highway was a bitch more or less, but mostly more, because they were somehow _everywhere_ , and Hope swears, _everywhere_.

At one point Hope was practically fuming silently at the other drivers, trying not to wake Amy up by screeching vulgar words at truckers… Because that’s not exactly romantic, and she doubts anyone ever wants to be awaken like that, and Hope still didn’t want to bother her either.

She hits her breaks as a black Chevy suddenly cuts into her lane, without warning, causing the person behind her to honk.

And it’s like a chain reaction, because in the next moment, Amy groans, seemingly making it known that she’s now awake then a mere seconds ago.

“Did I wake you?”

“Sort of,” Amy mumbles, “how far are we?”

“I’m passing the third goddamn McDonalds on this stupid highway,” Hope grumbles softly, glancing over to see Amy’s eyes, open and still slightly fuzzy from sleep.

“Are you really that cranky?” Amy asks, and Hope gives an exasperated sigh, and slouches before clearing her throat.

“These people are being fucking idiots.”

“Well don’t be like them,” Amy mumbles softly, craning her seat upright.

“You can go back to sleep; I didn’t actually mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright, I shouldn’t be sleeping while you drive, I’m the one who wanted to go on this trip anyway,” Amy laughs softly, leaning forward, she opens Hope’s glove compartment and grabs a CD binder, the Velcro ripping apart as she opens it and begins to thumb through the disks.

“Your welcome to choose anything,” Hope says glancing over to Amy, “or there’s an AUX cable somewhere in here.”

Amy hums, and purses her lips at a something in the case, before sliding it from its slot and ejecting the Queen disk from the player.

The opening verse of Coldplay’s Square One blossoms through the speakers, causing Hope to drum her fingers across the steering wheel.

“You like Coldplay?” Amy raises a brow.

“I was into them when I was younger,” Hope hums.

“Oh,” Amy smiles softly, she realizes that maybe they have more in common then they believe, “I was always into the fact that they were very nice and loved to help out the community and advocated for great things.”

“Of course you would be,” Hope laughs softly, “I was wondering why you picked this out of everything else I’ve got anyway.”

“It’s the only thing you’ve got that I’ve actually listened to,” Amy says, “and as much as I like listening to Fat Bottomed Girls, Somebody to Love, and Bohemian Rhapsody on repeat, it never hurts to listen to something that won’t induce pent up anger in the driver.”

“Are you trying to tell me I have anger issues?”

“No,” Amy intervenes, “not at all!”

“So the tattoos were an automatic message to you that I’ve been stressed and angry about everything in my life,” Hope jokes, “and because of this, I’m automatically going to resort to violence and anger?”

“I told you, I’m not telling you anything,” Amy frowns, “Queen is just getting old.”

“How dare you say that about Freddie Mercury.”

“I mean, he’s cool and all,” Amy waves her hands in protest, “but I really just want to listen to something with more meaning.”

“The dude was gay in a time when it was frowned upon,” Hope points out, “how meaningful could his songs get if he couldn’t be who he wanted to be?”

“Okay,” Amy interjects suddenly, “that’s really deep.”

Hope chuckles softly, looking over to Amy, “You know, you’re always finding ways to amuse me Amy.”

“One of these days, you’ll see that there’s more to me than amusement.”

Hope smiles, “Maybe I already have.”

And it’s those things that Hope says that are fine timed, programmed into a timeslot and planned, because Hope cannot be this skilled, she cannot be so infatuated with her to the point where she’ll make her blush countless times, and it doesn’t matter the time of day, because Hope will always find a way to turn Amy’s heart upside down.

Amy ignores the feeling that swells inside her chest, because she _cannot_ do this thing right now, the thing being her momentarily discussing the probability of whether or not this is truly something worth giving into. She wants to, but she can’t get out of that stupid mindset for the life of her.

“You never answered my question about how far we are,” Amy states, Hope’s eyes widen, looking over at her phone. _The power of technology_.

“ETOA is in forty five minutes.”

“We can make it in thirty,” Amy leans back, “step on it.”

“I’m not risking our lives so you can see your friend faster Amy.”

“Fine, fine,” Amy sighs. _This wasn’t LA._

Hope thinks to herself silently about this whole situation, as she looks over to Amy then back at the road in front of her.

* * *

They pull up to an old blue Volvo with bumper stickers about woman’s rights around one in the afternoon.

It’s in a McDonalds parking lot, to Hope’s dismal.

As soon as the car is in park, Amy is immediately launching herself out of the car seat, a shorter woman emerging from the passenger door, and immediately almost tackling Amy to the ground.

Hope would be alarmed of this sight in any other situation, that was, if Amy wasn’t currently laughing with the other woman, and at one point Hope thinks she might actually be crying.

It all seemed super strange, but Hope admires how Amy’s smile projects itself within her entire body, like you know from first glance she is beyond happy, despite the chill of New Haven, neither of them have their coats on, and upon realization, Hope wonders if she should see if Amy needs hers, because she almost feels as if she might. Hope disregards it though, she doesn’t want to interrupt… whatever this was.

“Oh my God!” The woman exclaims, “It’s so good to see you!”

The driver’s door slams minutes later, a brunette woman emerging with an unzipped coat, an oversized Yale hoodie, and leggings.

“I’m guessing you’re not Molly?” Hope inquires.

“Annabelle,” she says, clearly annoyed, “I drove.”

“Oh,” Hope says.

“You must be Amy’s girlfriend.”

Hope swallows, as much as she’d like to say _‘yes! I am!’_ she knows that it’d be a lie on Amy’s behalf.

Hope wants to say that she is, but they never specifically put a label on the two of their relationship.

“It’s…” Hope hums softly, “complicated right now.”

“I went to high school with those two, it can’t be more complicated then hearing Molly drone on about saving the environment for thirty minutes straight at our homecoming pep rallies.”

“She did not,” Hope denies half-heartedly, clearly amused.

Annabelle shakes her head, “dude, she fucking did, Molly is such a pain in my ass.”

“Is Amy bad?”

Annabelle gives a shrug, “she isn’t as bad as Molly, though they act like their pretty much married to each other. I don’t think any of us would’ve thought twice if Molly and Amy got together back in high school.”

Hope suppresses a grin, “that’s interesting.”

“Hey!” Annabelle yells, catching both girls attention, “let’s take the nerd convention somewhere else, shall we?”

Molly’s eyes narrow and she frowns, “Hey, guess what?” She says bluntly.

Annabelle raises a brow before giving an expression that’s easily described between being annoyed and being blatantly pissed off, “What Molly?”

“Shut up.” Molly retorts, sarcasm lacing her voice, causing Annabelle to huff something exasperated underneath her breath. Shoving a hand in her giant pocket, and retrieving a key ring, she makes an attempt to climb back into the Volvo.

“Fuck off. I’m leaving your ass here, Davidson,” she grumbles, making Hope smirk slightly.

Hope’s not sure why, but the fact that Annabelle was open about her distaste for Molly made it humorous and the exchange even more entertaining.

“Are you really going to leave her here?” Hope asks.

“I actually would,” Annabelle nods, shifting from the car door to glance back at Hope, “I need a break from her irritating ass,” Annabelle looks at Molly for a moment before glancing back at Hope, there’s something in her eye, and it alarms Hope.

Hope shakes her head, “No.”

“Why not? You brought the wife here to meet with her lover, why not watch them?”

“Because!” Hope sputters, “I totally did not sign up for this, absolutely not!”

Annabelle leans in, “She’ll love you even more.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t already, I’m not going to do it.”

“Too late,” Annabelle shrugs, “Davidson, Hope is now in charge of your annoying ass, because I’m leaving.”

“Oh Amy!” Molly gushes, as Annabelle yanks open the door and begins to drive away.

Hope is starting to think something is absolutely wrong because Amy has _not_ stopped talking since, she got here. As much as Hope loved hearing her talk about things, this was completely absurd and abnormal. Like some kind of mating ritual, minus the whole obvious part.

“Someone call 911, I think my heart just stopped after I saw you dressed in that,” Molly gestures to Amy’s outfit, and it causes Amy to almost double over in laughter.

“Hold on,” Amy stands, brushing off her laughter, and trying to portray a straight face, obviously not being successful at this action, none of the less, Amy does it anyway, and Hope almost finds the action adorable, if not for Molly ruining the mood, “it should be illegal for you to be wearing that, because damn girl… your fine.”

“Oh my god! Ms. Fine!” Molly jumps.

“Oh!” Amy gushes, “I miss her so much!”

“We should call her when we get back to my dorm!”

“Fuck yes!” Amy yells, pumping a fist in the air, it turns a few heads, and Hope almost feels like she should announce that she doesn’t know either of them.

“You’re making a scene,” Hope states, leaning against the hood of the Toyota, it causes Amy to jump up,

“Oh! Molls,” Amy says, “this is Hope.”

“The infamous Molly,” Hope raises a brow, Molly simply looks at Hope, gaze flicking from her face to her feet, before holding out her hand. _The fuck is this bullshit?_

“Amy has told me about you,” Molly says _. Of course she did._

Amy gives a blush and smiles softly, “Sorry.”

Hope waves her hand dismissively, “All good things I hope,”

Amy nods quickly, “Of course!”

“Apart from the whole love thing, I suppose everything else is good.”

“Molly!”

“Oh, she doesn’t know about how you feel?” Molly raises a brow, a smile tugging at her lips as she glances back to Hope.

“I actually do not,” Hope juts in, making Amy’s eyes widen.

“Oh!” Molly clasps her hands together, “wait until I tell you the scoop.”

“Molly!” Amy practically screams, “No!”

“On second thought,” Molly grins, “I don’t think it’s my secret to tell, she might kill me.”

“And that’d be a bad thing, because?” Hope comments, bluntly, Molly giving her a look of pure disdain, Hope simply waves her hand, and instead, gestures her thumb to the car, “Anyway, where do we go?”

“Just let Molly drive,” Amy says, Hope shakes her head.

“I’m not letting that,” she gestures to Molly before turning to Amy, “crash my car.”

“Then let me drive,” Amy interjects making Hope grumble.

“Fine.”

* * *

Hope has been demoted to the backseat, and currently, Amy is confidently gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Molly sitting beside her, giving her directions to their destination.

Not that Hope doesn’t trust Amy, she does, but if Amy dares crash Hope’s car, there will be hell to pay, because there is no way that Hope will voluntarily want to hitch a ride home with these two in the car together, singing along to Taylor Swift at full volume with the windows down. _It’s winter for God sake!_

“Can you please change the song or turn it down?”

Molly flips Hope off in the rear-view mirror, Amy’s eyes meeting Hope’s with a reassuring gaze, before she’s turning to Molly to turn to clear her throat abruptly.

“Play nice, she drove me here.”

Molly continues to obnoxiously cover _We Are Never Getting Back Together,_ the sight makes Hope smile softly as Amy bounces along to the chorus, repeating every other line.

“Sing with us,” Amy chimes, and it makes Hope shake her head firmly.

“This is all you girl.”

“I really want to hear you babe,” Amy gushes.

_‘Babe.’_ The name repeats itself within her mind a few times before Hope shrugs her shoulders.

And as the voice memo breaks and the melody fades out, Hope takes a deep breath before bursting into the song at the same time as Taylor’s voice envelopes the speakers once again, the action momentarily stunning Molly, and she turns to glance at Hope in the back seat, evidently headbanging along.

“Oh my God,” Molly laughs after the song ends, “Amy, she is wife material.”

“I heard that,” Hope clears her throat, “we aren’t exactly that far from each other.”

“I mean do you really like her?”

“Again,” Hope says, “I can still hear you.”

“Cover your ears then,” Molly shoots.

“You know what?”

“What?” Molly jabs.

“I might just-“

Amy shouts loudly, interrupting Hope, causing both of them to go silent for a second before looking at Amy, “both of you,” Amy yells, grabbing Molly’s arm and tugging her to turn around in her seat, peering through the rear-view mirror, “settle the fuck down.”

“Whatever,” Hope deadpans, “she started it anyway.”

“I did not!” Molly interjects.

“You’re a fucking liar.”

“Hope!” Amy calls, making Hope close her mouth and duck her head down, Amy could really have an effect on her.

Hope guesses that Amy could probably tell her to walk off a bridge and she’d do it… Well… Maybe _not_ , but still.

“Turn left,” Molly says, as Amy breaks at a red light, switching on her turn signal.

“Is this it?”

“Yes,” Molly says, “just drop me off here.”

“Where are we?” Hope asks, and it makes Molly turn around in her seat, after unclasping her seat belt. Amy shifts the car into park, before clearing her throat.

“Yale Center for British Art.”

“Oh!” Hope’s eyes widen, “Amy, did you?”

“I might had something to do with it,” Amy smiles softly into the rearview mirror, and Molly pushes open the car door, making Amy pulls forward to park in a spot.

“You remembered I liked art.”

“You’re the one majoring in it.”

“But you didn’t have to take the time to plan this.”

“Just shut up,” Amy smiles softly, shifting the car and turning around, “give me one for the museum.”

Then Hope is smiling softly and connecting their lips together, it’s not a peck, though Hope swears that it’s all she really expected, but it’s Amy who doesn’t pull away, so she doesn’t either.

However, it’s Molly pounding on the passenger window seconds later that makes them jump apart. Like a bolt of electricity.

“Come on, I want to see art, not you two fornicating in a car.”

“We should _totally_ do that to piss her off,” Hope whispers, and it makes Amy laugh softly.

“ _No_!” Amy grins, “as much as I _love_ Molly, I wouldn’t be caught dead like that.”

“Even _with_ me?”

“ _Especially_ with you,” Amy surprises herself upon uttering the words, because despite the anxiety clawing at her brain, she lets the retort slide off of her tongue with ease.

If Hope didn’t think her heart could get any bigger because of Amy, she was dead wrong. Because that was the thing about Amy, she managed to astonish Hope in unusual ways, granted, she would never admit them aloud, but all Amy had to practically do was look in her direction and it’d make Hope swoon, give up her soul, and admit to all the wrongs she’s ever done all at once.

It was getting hard to resist the want low in her gut, because she wanted to be with Amy, more than anything else in the world, but the only question remained.

_‘When will the time be right?’_

There’s never a love story that’s ended even before it began, that’s the whole point of a love story, experiencing something in light, not obscured by shadows and different brushstrokes, it’s all a question of when.

_And all Hope can hope for is for it to be sooner than later, if she should take any advice, it should come from her own name._

**_Hope._ **

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sponsored by Taylor Swift, Coldplay, or Queen at all… Neither Yale nor Columbia.
> 
> Also… Major props to Amy for becoming like a mother to Molly and Hope… Way to go girl, we salute you and your good self.
> 
> If those two can get along for five minutes… You know either one of them is dead, or is scheming to kill the other. 
> 
> Writing Hope and Molly bickering is so much fun. 
> 
> And just a fyi, I have no idea how midterms and thanksgiving breaks go for colleges, so based on research, this is it… as well as the trip to Yale, also… not actually sure how many McDonalds are on NY-94, don’t look that up, I don’t want to know, and don’t spoil the joke.


	9. But hearts break and hells a place that everyone knows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A CONFESSION TO MAKE… AND IT STARTS WITH ME HAVING A SOFT SPOT FOR HOPE IN THIS FIC… 
> 
> SERIOSULY… I’M STARTING TO FALL IN LOVE WITH HER A BIT. 
> 
> AMY BECOMING SOFT AND FORGETTING ABOUT WHAT SHE FEELS FOR A BIT… WILL TURN INTO A HETIC SITUATION LATER. 
> 
> ALSO… FOR NONE OF YOU ASKING FOR GIGI… HERE YOU GO… YOU GET HER ANYWAY… I TRIED TO RECREATE THE MAGIC AS BEST AS I COULD…
> 
> ALSO… HOPE INSULTS MOLLY AND I FIND THAT WAY TOO FUNNY. 
> 
> This probably is nothing like the actual museum… just roll with it.

> _“My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations.”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

CHAPTER 9.)

"It's so beautiful," Hope whispers, craning her neck around the open room.

Hope feels as if she has died and gone to heaven in an instant, she's never felt so happy.

"Are you glad that Molly helped us get here?" Amy asks, and Hope turns to glance over at her.

Hope has never felt this strong feeling before, it's something that coils tightly within the confines of her chest, granted she _has_ felt this feeling before, but never this intensely, it seems Amy's presence amplifies everything tenfold, and Hope loves that.

"Thanks Amy," She whispers, and before even realizing it, she's enclosing Amy within her arms. It's unexpected, and it catches Amy off guard, however, her arms wrap around Hope's shoulders seconds later.

"Hey, is everything okay with you two?" Molly asks, Amy pulls away before flashing her friend a smile.

"Never been better," Hope replies, and Amy starts to walk further into an on looking room.

"Have you ever been here before?" Amy asks, and Hope shakes her head.

"My dad completely glanced over this place on his list," Hope says, stepping forward to read a plaque on the wall, "it's a shame too, because there's some pretty stuff here."

Amy bites her lip before moving to stand beside Hope, it takes an enormous amount of strength to calm her nerves, reaching forward to thread their fingers together.

"Not nearly as pretty as you," Amy whispers, and it makes Hope turn with a small smile tugging at her lips.

And Amy swears her heart climbs into her throat for a moment regarding the look Hope flashes her. She mentally high-fives herself for effort, because her mind isn’t racing as bad as it did before, seemingly saying the words without thinking of adding her filter, makes everything simpler. Amy knows she wants this, but it cannot be this hard to get out of her zone, it’s just not supposed to be.

Hazel fell for Gus without a question or a look back, so why couldn’t she?

What the fuck is holding her back from this gorgeous specimen?

Because, it’s all Amy can seem to think about anymore, it’s Hope, but there’s still something underneath it all, and she’s not quite sure about what it exactly was.

Amy allows herself to mentally forget about everything she’s ever told herself love could be for a moment, and just focus on feeling the skin of Hope’s hand in hers, because the feeling of Hope’s palm is evidently tough, yet being soft at the same time, with a thumb smoothing against the back of her own hand. The thoughts slow, but don’t hesitate, she tunes them out for the most part, absorbs the visions of the brushstrokes, the colors, the dim lighting.

It feels nice, so she embraces the feelings, mentally creeping out the same distance as before, because despite everything, she’s still hesitant, and she knows Hope knows this, she doesn’t have to bring it up.

And frankly, she doesn’t want to either. Somethings are better not mentioned or thought about.

"I don't know how you manage it, but somehow I keep managing to fall further down this rabbit hole."

"Is there any other place you rather be?" Amy asks, and a grin spreads across Hope’s lips. _It feels nice to be reason for her smile._

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Hope clears her throat, "you are something to be treasured anyway."

And just like that, Amy was back to where they started, Hope reclaiming her title of being overly charismatic, despite the public around them.

"Really?" Amy grins, she feels her cheeks heat up.

How Hope always managed to astonish her was beyond anything she could ever comprehend.

"They should make museums about your life," Hope whispers, she's almost laughing softly at how cheesy it seems, "because you are something that should be observed."

"You’re kidding," Amy has to bite her lip to stop herself from uttering something profound, because this is something else entirely. Something Amy cannot comprehend without knowing what’s to come out of it.

Instead, bracing herself for something unknown, bracing for the familiar foreign feeling within her gut. Her heart seems to twist, and it’s all too real, because Amy doesn’t know why she likes all of this, despite the unknowns.

"Though, I don't know," Hope hums softly, "I don't particularly like the idea of strangers gawking at you like that."

"But you gawk at me all the time," Amy jabs, and it makes Hope laugh.

She had her at hello, it was a given, but it was still scary to understand what this all meant.

"I don't like to share much."

And again, Amy’s heart is in her throat, speechless, because everything is just exploding and trying to get pieced together again, she wants to be fine, wants to believe that Hope is never going to run away, but that was the thing about love. _You could never know._

Amy looks away from Hope’s eyes, scanning the room, "I think we might have lost Molly," Amy says, trying to change the subject, and forget about how tight her chest feels, "where even are we?" She says, making an attempt to see through the dark room.

"Isn't losing her a good thing?" Hope raises a brow, the words, earning a distasteful glare from Amy.

"Hope," she says, "be serious for once."

"Okay, okay!" Hope waves her hands in an attempt to diffuse the situation, "don't you have your phone with you?" Hope asks, Amy pats her pockets, just to shrug.

_Cue the second fuck up in Amy’s life. Forgets phone in car during the age of technology._

_Great fucking job Antsler._

"Just your keys, what about your phone?"

“I left it in my suitcase in the car.”

“Fuck,” Amy mutters. _Of course this would happen with her luck._

Hope narrows her eyes as Amy gestures out the key ring in her hand, "and I will gladly take my keys back," Hope takes and shoves the fob back into the front pocket of her jeans, before clearing her throat and looking around, "she couldn't have gone far anyway."

"Well it's Molly," Amy sighs, "she could be anywhere."

"You take me to an art museum, and then make me play a game of _Where's Waldo?_ with your incredibly difficult best friend," Hope mutters under her breath, “this day keeps getting better and better.”

"She's not difficult," Amy glares, unthreading their fingers to cross her arms.

_There. Less connection, maybe that’ll make everything feel less complicated._

Hope scoffs, "right, and I'm not sarcastic."

"Molly is not a bad person," Amy shakes her head. _Wrong. It’s still complicated._

"She's just short, and is easily able to be lost in an art gallery apparently," Hope surmises, and Amy sighs.

"Whatever, she couldn't have gone far anyway, it's not like this place is that big."

“Right, but Molly is like… five foot one and this place is pretty much endless.”

“Don’t rain on our chances,” Amy scolds, as they stop near a corner.

"Can you tell me what this painting is? It seems to be attracting my aura," A woman completely cuts into their conversation, stepping between the two of them, a feathered scarf around her shoulders, and rose colored glasses covering her eyes. _It's indoors, what the hell?_

"Hope," Amy's eyes widen, and she quickly grabs onto Hope's wrist, dragging her into a different room, making them even more lost. _Great_.

"What?" Hope says, Amy looks as if she's seen a ghost, "did you know that person?"

"Yeah," Amy nods, "she was this lunatic that we went to high school with."

"As if I thought Molly was weird?"

_Just gets better and better._

"Gigi is different," Amy says, "she got into Harvard, and was apparently extremely talented."

"Then why call her a lunatic?" Hope asks, Amy purses her lips before looking around, "wouldn't that be some sort of stroke of extraordinary genius?"

"She drugged us on the night before graduation."

Hope's jaw drops, "Holy shit, really?"

Amy nods, "and she's best friends with Molly's ex-boyfriend too."

"So she's like... Bad news then?"

"Extremely," Amy nods, "if Molly found out Gigi was here, she'd be so upset."

"Wait a minute," Hope interjects, "what about our plan?"

"Plan?"

"For finding your friend?" Hope narrows her eyes, "we can always just leave too, we do have my keys."

"No," Amy clarifies, "we are not ditching Molly like this."

"I don't know why you instantly keep her around," Hope groans, Amy simply pulls her into another room.

"She'd do the same thing for me," Amy says, and Hope shakes her head. _Sure, keep telling yourself that._

"No one in their right goddamn mind would search an entire art museum for another person if they had their car keys."

"Well, I would," Amy shrugs, "because Molly and I are best friends."

"The only reasons why I'm not currently leaving right now are because, a.) this is an art museum, and b.) you’re completely insisting on not leaving," Hope deadpans, as they stop near another room's entrance.

"Awe, your sweet," Amy hums, quickly tugging Hope down by the collar of her shirt, and pecking her cheek before marching through another crowd of people. _Okay… maybe it does feel good to do that, but that’s all it is, a good feeling. Period, end of story._

They go through at least five different rooms before Hope starts to think that this place has no ending. Molly is still missing, and Hope is debating on telling a security guard about their situation.

_Surely, this happens often, right? Okay, maybe not with adults, but still, it’s an option._

* * *

Molly is standing in the far corner of the nude portrait room, the woman who Amy pulled Hope away from earlier has her back to the entrance. They’re talking in a way that neither of them can catch a word, however, Molly looks clearly miserable, despite the dim lighting, Hope can easily pick out her body language. There’s an ounce of Hope that almost takes pity on her, however she’d never admit to feeling bad, especially for someone like Molly Davidson.

Because currently, Hope’s too busy getting terrible anxiety by being at the threshold of this entrance, not because of Amy. _Of course not._

Amy’s glancing around the room, like there’s something more within these paintings of naked people, and Hope desperately wants to just _leave_.

This is terrible, really, as much as Hope liked rooms like these when she was younger, this was something else.

“Wait,” Amy pulls Hope back by her wrist, looking at the two, before turning to Hope, “Gigi is talking to Molly.”

“So?” Hope says, and Amy shakes her head.

“We need to leave.”

“What?” Hope’s eyes widen, “why?”

“Because,” Amy says, “I just want to leave.”

Hope frowns, “Amy, come on.”

“Hope, I seriously want to go.”

“You insisted on finding your best friend Amy.”

“We found her,” Amy gestures to the figure in the corner, before returning to Hope’s gaze, “now let’s just _go_.”

“Amy,” Hope groans, “come on now,” Hope shakes her head before sighing aloud, and walking away.

“Hope!” Amy’s loud whisper makes Hope’s motions quicker.

“Oh, hi Hope,” Molly smiles, catching sight of Hope’s lanky frame.

“Hope,” Amy groans, seconds later, causing Hope to turn around, she looks clearly upset about her actions.

“Look who I found,” Molly says, gesturing to Gigi’s somber frame.

The woman is silent, eyeing Amy for a moment before turning back to Molly, as if on cue, her eyes snap to Hope, and she pulls her glasses away from her eyes and squints. _Again, the sunglasses are pointless, this whole place is dark._

“I feel that you have a clean aura,” she says, reaching out to grab one of Hope’s hands, holding it in her palm and covering it with her other, closing her eyes, and humming in approval, “yes, I can sense that you do have a free spirit.”

Hope’s eyes dart to Amy, who gives her a supporting shrug, making Hope frown. Gigi lets go of Hope’s hand after an uncomfortable minute, and instead, steps closer, it’s to the point where even Hope feels as if she might be smothered, despite their height difference.

Her perfume is practically breath taking, both figurative and literal, because Hope _cannot_ actually breathe.

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Hope swallows.

Staying silent, Gigi’s, eyes suddenly snap to Amy’s frame, before turning to face Molly, deliberately, Hope take it as an opportunity to step back a few feet while Gigi’s gaze was occupied elsewhere.

“So,” Amy jumps in, “Gigi,” her eyes instantly snap to Amy’s upon her name, “what are you doing here?”

“Not that we don’t like seeing you,” Molly chimes, clasping her hands together, “believe us, we _so_ do, but what happened to Harvard?”

Gigi looks between Amy and Molly before ignoring everything, and moving to enclose both of them in an unexplainable hug.

“I have reunited with my _best_ friends,” she states, and Hope almost thinks it’s comedic how awkward the two of them look, Amy flashes her a look however, that speaks volumes.

_‘If you laugh right now, I will legit kill you’_

_‘Oh,’_ Hope thinks, _‘you are so on Antsler.’_

“Are we going to stay here forever?” Hope interjects, “as much as I love meeting new people, we have plans.”

Okay, that last part was a lie, but Gigi never knew that. Besides, what Gigi doesn’t know, won’t hurt her either.

“What plans do you speak of?” Gigi asks, Molly somehow freeing herself from bone crushing embrace and Amy follows seconds later.

Amy, clearly frazzled about how disturbing everything is.

Molly takes a moment before jumping forward, “we actually have dinner reservations at this extremely fancy restaurant not far from here.”

“We do?” Amy mouths to Molly, making the shorter woman jab her elbow in her side in a swift motion, earning a grunt from Amy and a quick nod, “I mean, yes, we do have that going on.”

“I could squeeze in as well,” Gigi says, and instantly Hope shoots in.

“ _No_ , that’s okay.”

“As much as it was nice to see you again Gigi, we really do need to leave,” Amy clears her throat, before grabbing both Molly’s and Hope’s wrist, and sprinting off in the opposite direction.

“I was just enjoying the nude room Ames,” Molly groans.

“Why?” Hope jokes, “is it because it’s the only way you’ll ever see a dick?”

Molly’s eyes flick forward, and she frowns, “I’ll have you know-“

Amy clears her throat as they pass through the entrance of the gallery, “Not now.”

They stay silent for a moment, just exchanging looks, and with no word, Molly and Amy suddenly break out in laughter.

The sight is ridiculously amusing to Hope, watching Amy practically doubled over in laughter.

Hope stands there, wrist still in Amy’s hand, staring at the two as they gesture between the gallery before hugging each other.

“Oh my God,” Molly rants, “that was so weird.”

“I mean, did you see her?” Amy comments, “totally freaked me out.”

“I thought she was nice,” Hope interjects, causing both of them to fall silent, and stare with wide eyes.

“Your insane, you know that?” Molly says to Hope, “anyway, we need to leave before she finds us.”

“Shit cannot get more weirder than Gigi,” Amy comments, climbing into the backseat of the car with Molly.

“Alright Amy and Dorkson,” Hope scolds in the rear view mirror, shifting her body to look at the two, “where are we going now?” She asks.

“It’s Davidson,” Molly frowns, “Just drive me back to Yale.”

“What about you?” Amy asks, and Molly grins.

_Clearly, she knew something that Amy didn’t._

“We actually do have dinner reservations,” Molly winks, “but there for you two.”

“Molls, _no_ , you shouldn’t have.”

“Yes Amy, I have, you need to relax, and plus, we’ll have plenty of time later to chat Ames.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOLLY IS SECRETLY NICE AT THE END OF THE DAY, BUT WILL STILL STIFF HOPE WITH THE BILL FOR THE FOOD. 
> 
> …ME
> 
> ALSO… I’VE NEVER ACTUALLY BEEN TO AN ART MUSEUM BEFORE, APART FROM WHEN I WAS LIKE… 6. DON’T KNOW HOW ACCURATE THIS IS. I DIDN’T DO MUCH RESEARCH ON THIS. 
> 
> JUST LIKE… ROLL WITH IT.
> 
> ART ISN’T MY SPECIALTY… IT’S HOPE’S. 
> 
> :)


	10. But every time I look at you, I just don't care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got kind of lazy writing this, so there’s a lot of cuts in the scenes, also… major cute fluff? Is that a warning? 
> 
> Either way, I think I’ve fallen for this Hope, okay… maybe I’m writing her the way I want someone to act for me… but I’ll never say it. 
> 
> Also… I’m cringing at the dinner scene because it’s cheesy and dumb… but hopefully you guys think it’s sweet. It’s meant to be… This is a love story after all… lmao.
> 
> Incoming rant with Molly, Molly the smart brainiac, and knows that Amy needs relationship advice. Surprisingly, it feels as if I pinpointed Amy and Molly’s dialogue well on this… Well, kind of. It’s still way off.

> _“Because sometimes even if you know how something’s gonna end, that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the ride.” — Ted Mosby_

* * *

CHAPTER 10.)

“I’m going to actually kill you after this,” Amy mutters as she sits on Molly’s bed.

“Relax,” Molly says, “you know your going to be just fine, Hope adores you.”

“Right,” Amy says under her breath, “I’m still not sure about that whole thing.”

“What do you mean?” Molly turns around from Annabelle’s closet, “are you still unsure?”

“I mean,” Amy takes a deep breath before sighing, “I mean I like how she makes me feel, _but_ -“

“ _But_ what Amy?” Molly cuts her off, “it’s either you do, or you don’t like her. There is no intermediate.”

“I-I do, okay?” Amy retorts, “but I’m still trying to sort that out, because she’s super sweet and I really don’t want to hurt her.”

“When I was with Jared, Amy,” Molly begins, holding a shirt up to Amy before putting it back onto the rack, “there was never a doubt in my mind that our feelings could be considered off.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Amy raises a brow, “I know I’m not Jared, if that’s what your trying to tell me.”

“Look Amy,” Molly says, “there’s no doubt in my mind, from what I saw in Hope, that she completely adores you, don’t you know that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Does that scare you?” Molly asks, Amy turns away, scanning the room, before meeting Molly’s figure again.

“It’s not like it _scares_ me,” Amy says, “I’m just afraid of admitting that this is completely real, and not another thing that’s going to end up fucking me over.”

“But don’t you see it?” Molly says.

“See what?”

“You’re basically giving her the runaround, avoiding everything, and instead, completely leading her on, Amy.”

“That’s not true,” Amy shoots, and Molly raises a brow.

“Really?” Molly asks.

“Yes Moll,” Amy nods.

“That’s like the biggest fear in the LGBTQ culture anyways, isn’t it? People leading each other on for the wrong reasons,” Molly says, “and I don’t need to be gay to know that you need to get your shit together.”

“I’m fine,” Amy says, Molly shakes her head.

“No, Amy, you’re not,” she states, “your more likely to be hurting her this way, then an break up, because your actually showing feelings to her, and it’s a huge mixed signal.”

“We know where we stand Molly,” Amy says.

“Amy, as much as I hate being the bad guy, and believe me, I do, I really think you need to just think about these things, I love you, but you’re really dumb despite getting into Columbia.”

“I can’t believe you right now,” Amy exhales sharply, “your being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” Molly mocks, turning around with a hanger, making Amy’s eyes widen in horror, “or did I just find the best thing in Annabelle’s closet?”

It’s a dark green dress that’s repulsive for Amy’s taste. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” Molly grins, “it matches your bike.”

“I’m not wearing my bike as an outfit for a date with the girl that could potentially be the love of my life.”

“Amy.”

“What?”

“You just admitted that Hope was the love of your life,” Molly says.

“I did?”

“Yeah,” Molly nods, “are you serious?”

“I didn’t even really notice,” Amy says, face redder than normal, “It just slipped out.”

“Your blushing,” Molly points out, Amy quickly covers her face, turning away in embarrassment, “you do like her you liar!”

“I was kidding Molly,” Amy says, and Molly shakes her head.

“Sure Ames, the way you said it, it sounded serious.”

“Either way, Molly, I am not wearing that,” Amy gestures to the dress, “you know they aren’t my thing anyway.”

“The fact that you found someone is so adorable,” Molly points out.

“Shut up!” Amy groans, flopping back onto the bed, “please don’t make this even more uncomfortable like you always do.”

“And your too scared to admit it,” Molly says, “Hope is so whipped.”

“Molly!” Amy yells, threating to use a pillow as ammunition to diffuse the argument.

“Anyway, I was just kidding anyway,” Molly grins, putting the dress back, “let’s go find something in my closet.”

Amy sighs loudly, “Thank God.”

Amy wouldn’t admit it, but saying the phrase aloud, made the feeling in her gut only bloom into something that made it even more surreal.

Hope wouldn’t be something that major, could she be?

Amy denies it, it was completely a fluke, like that time where Molly said the wrong term for a history presentation, that kind of fluke, not an unexpected love confession, because this was not love. It was only a feeling of being wanted by another person, though Amy would admit, Hope did make her feel something inside her chest, all warm and exciting.

That couldn’t be love, it just couldn’t be, there was a one and a billion odds that Hope was truly ‘ _it’_ for her, and Amy would be damned before she let that thought go to the wayside, because it’s ultimately valid in it’s own right. _Hope just couldn’t be it._

But what _if_ she was? Amy wouldn’t mind that, decidedly so, but Hope was uncontrollable, there was too many unknown variables, and that wasn’t a bad thing.

Sometimes things are better when you don’t know the ending, just like Hazel’s story about Gus.

Time was an issue as well, Amy knew Hope wouldn’t wait around forever, but when would she forget that anything could possibly break someone apart from another?

Sure, Hope knew practically everything about her, and tolerates her best friend… To a certain extent, but when will Amy just let this go?

Because she knows it’s dumb, for wanting to avoid all of this, but she’s never come to realize that this could potentially damage Hope worse, just giving her reciprocation, without any conversation or label, and Amy hates the thought of hurting someone as perfect as Hope.

But why should she be forced to put a label on something so unexplainable anyway?

No one in their right mind would be jumping at the opportunity to be potentially hurt at any given time.

So why should she give Hope the right to hurt her?

* * *

Amy climbs into Hope’s Toyota, the clock on the dash saying that it was only thirty past six.

Amy knows they’ll be early. _Extremely_.

“Sorry if it smells, I just had a smoke,” Hope says, starting the car and driving away from the curb.

“It’s alright,” Amy says, she could faintly make out the initial smell of something close to ash and lemongrass, burnt paper, yet seemingly skunk-like.

“I had the windows down, and changed my clothes afterward, but I’m not sure if it stuck around.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Amy sighs, “besides, isn’t the reason you smoke in the first place, to relax you?”

Hope hums softly, “Yeah, but it’s rare that I do it, my dad started it after he was diagnosed, he always told me how it helped relaxed him.”

“So why do you do it?” Amy asks.

“Well,” Hope smiles softly, “some of us just need to relax sometimes.”

“Am I stressing you out?”

“Oh dear God no!” Hope chuckles, “it’s Molly.”

“What?” Amy says, raises a brow, “seriously?”

“Nah,” Hope grins, “I just wanted to see your face when I insulted her again.”

“Oh” Amy says, frowning, and turning to look out the passenger window, “anyway, where did Molly say this place was again?”

“Look at my phone, I think she put it in their before she took you to doll you up.”

“I am not dolled up,” Amy scoffs, “I’m just humbler.”

“What are those? Designer ripped-at-the-knee camouflage overalls over a political protest shirt?” Hope chuckles to herself, “so chic, Ms. Antsler.” 

“Shut up and drive, pothead.”

* * *

“I think I might want this dragon carrot risotto to become a person so I can take it to Las Vegas and marry it.”

“Really? Should I be concerned that you might be blind?” Hope raises a brow, pointing her fork at Amy’s plate, “you’re eating eggplant parmesan, and there’s no way I’m letting you marry that over me.”

“I’m referencing something,” Amy says, biting her lip to stop herself from beaming at Hope’s response, “it’s from this story.”

She’s blushing, she knows she’s blushing. Damn Hope and her tactical antics, making feel something she’s so fucking scared of.

“Oh,” Hope says, “tell me about it.”

“It’s my favorite book,” Amy says, “ _The Fault In Our Stars_.”

“I think I might have heard of it,” Hope thinks for a moment, “what do you like about it?”

Amy practically bursts with excitement, “you see, the whole story is this huge love story, and its one that is imperfect and flawed in many ways, but because of it being flawed, the author makes the story seem real, you start to believe the love that the characters show for one another. Like an actual love story, its one filled with joy as well as sadness.”

“I’m guessing your going to ask me if I’ve read it?”  
  
“Have you?” Amy asks.

“I’m not high enough for this shit,” Hope jokes, and shakes her head.

“You need an intervention,” Amy comments, “I’m making you read and watch the movie when we get back to Columbia.”

“Right, but don’t yell at me if I fall asleep to either of them.”

“You won’t,” Amy interjects.

“If this wasn’t a wake up call, then I don’t believe I’m ever waking up again,” Hope mumbles, her fork scraping against the plate as she twists the few noodles left around her fork.

“Hey,” Amy says, suddenly catching Hope’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” Hope asks, and Amy shakes her head.

“I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Hope’s face breaks out into a smile before she nods, “Me too.”

Because despite anything, Amy’s glad that Hope is here with her, in a vintage leather jacket and a black ‘ _I <3 NY’_ t-shirt, tattered Levi’s, and dirty red high-tops.

_Yes, Hope was flawed in her own right, but then again, so was Amy._

* * *

“Are you sure you’re going to voluntarily sleep in your car?” Amy asks, Hope’s parked by Yale’s entrance, car still running.

It’s past nine, and Amy doesn’t want to leave Hope, despite this predicament.

“I’ll be fine, I’ve done this before.”

“Are you sure though?” Amy raises a brow, and Hope nods firmly.

“Positive Antsler,” She grins, “with all the attention your giving me, it’s starting to seem like you feel something.”

Amy ignores the comment, opening the car door before climbing out of the passenger seat, Amy quickly realizes that the temperature has significantly dropped since the start of the evening, probably due to the fact that New Haven was still in need of a snowfall.

“Goodnight Hope,” Amy says, an unexpected shiver somehow running down her spine, and it causes her to shudder, instantly catching Hope’s attention.

“Are you cold?”

“Just a bit, but it’s nothing, I’m sure.”

“Hold on,” Hope says, climbing towards the backseat and searching for a duffel bag, “I’ve got something for that.”

It’s a Columbia hoodie, and Amy almost rejects it, because in all honesty, as much as she would adore wearing something laced with Hope’s smell, she keeps thinking back to what Molly discussed with her before.

“I shouldn’t Hope,” Amy says, “I’ll be fine.”

“I insist,” Hope says, climbing into the passenger seat and pushing it into Amy’s hands out of the window, the heater is on full blast with the window down, and Amy’s hesitant for a minute before Hope flashes Amy a wishful look, silently uttering a, ‘ _Please Amy_? For me?’

And Amy takes it, pulling the hood over her face, and letting it hang down to her thighs in the beginning of winter of New Haven.

“Thank you,” She whispers, “for everything.”

And Amy means it, she adores everything Hope has done for her, and despite this feeling, she knows that Hope was simply doing something that anyone would do, but there seemed to be more to it. Hands grazing against one another as she forced her to take it into her hands, like Hope knew that she was debating her own health in favor of being independent.

“It’s what I’m here for,” Hope says, “goodnight Amy, sleep well.”

“You know you can call me if you need anything, I’m sure Molly can fit another sleeping bag on the floor between her and Annabelle.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Hope smiles, and from the streetlamp, Amy can see the newfound flush on her cheeks, and bright nose, the sight, Amy instantly devotes to memory, “but trust me Amy, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Amy says, “I do.”

“Good,” Hope smiles softly, “now, go away so I can miss you.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Not if I see you first.”

Hope’s arms are dangling out of the window, actually, practically her whole upper body is pushed out of the window, it causes Amy to wonder how that could possibly be comfortable despite her height.

Amy however, immediately moves her lips to press against Hope’s, without a second thought, pushing Molly’s words out of her mind momentarily, because even if she was scared to accept that this was real, damn, Hope was good at making her forget about everything, and kissing her like she’s the most important thing in the entire state of Connecticut.

So what if Amy likes kissing Hope? It’s not like it’s a crime… Well… Maybe it is, but Hope isn’t complaining, other than the fact that Amy still hasn’t mentioned having a proper label on whatever they were… Sue her.

_Because even if Amy’s giving her mixed signals, Hope is still great at reading them._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I THINK WE ALL NEED A HUG AFTER THAT ONE, MYSELF INCLUDED. 
> 
> IS THERE ANYTHING SWEETER THAN HOPE? BE HONEST. 
> 
> “NOW GO AWAY SO I CAN MISS YOU.” <\- MY HEART MELTS. 
> 
> ALSO… AMY SHOULDN’T BE WEARING A COLUMBIA HOODIE AT YALE… LMAO… I’M NOT SURE THIS IS EVEN ALOUD IN COLLEGES, BUT AMY IS GONNA DO IT ANYWAY. 
> 
> FEEL YA BAD SELF AMES. I STG.
> 
> PROPS TO MOLLY FOR BEING THE FRIEND I’VE ALWAYS WANTED, BUT NEVER HAD, SO I BECAME HER INSTEAD. :)
> 
> WE ALL WANT SOMEONE TO BE KISSING US LIKE WE’RE THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE ENTIRE STATE OF CONNECTICUT… JUST ME? ALRIGHT FINE. I CAN DEAL WITH THAT. 
> 
> “I really really really really really really like you…”
> 
> …yEs…tHinK oF hOpE
> 
> Also… Don’t pull a “hope” and sleep in your car when it’s winter if you don’t have to. It’s unsafe. Toyota's are durable and whatnot, but doing that in general is incredibly risky.


	11. I'm so in my head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this seems choppy, I was writing this at like 11pm at night, trying to finish it so I could edit it at like 10 the next morning, eventually I just got lazy, hopefully you'll know what I mean. 
> 
> Here you go my lovelies... Amy finally getting some help. 
> 
> Hope's dad... Hope is such a daddy's girl... not like... kinky or anything... just... she loves her dad... and I love that. It shows she's human.
> 
> Also... Annabelle supports Hope&Amy... She's just tired of being with Molly. :)

> _“Because you are beautiful. I enjoy looking at beautiful people, and I decided a while ago not to deny myself the simpler pleasures of existence”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

CHAPTER 11.)

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck did you eat?” Annabelle groans, pulling Amy up through the window of the dorm room, Molly holding onto her hips.

“Be careful, last thing we need is for her to go back to Hope in a body bag.”

“Are you insulting me?”

“No,” Molly says, “just don’t fucking drop her five stories up.”

The two started bickering, momentarily forgetting Amy was half hanging out of a window, and almost slipping, despite her leg being wrapped around an oak tree branch.

“Guys!” Amy calls, making both turn their heads.

“What?” They ask in unison, and it makes Amy frown.

“Fucking help me!” Amy yells, “I think I’m slipping.”

“Shit, right.”

“Annabelle, just keep getting her arms, I’ve got her legs.”

“You couldn’t have worked out more before this?” Annabelle groans.

“I didn’t expect you guys to live on the fucking fifth floor,” Amy seethes, “so no, I didn’t expect to be climbing through a window after nine at night on a Saturday.”

Amy lands with a thud on the floor, face first, but thankful for solid ground.

“Fuck, definitely going to feel that tomorrow,” Annabelle mumbles, sitting underneath a reading lamp hanging over her bed, and picking up a worn copy of _The Hunger Games_ from its discarded position, “Anyway, just keep it down, I’m reading.”

“Right,” Molly says, turning to Amy, “thanks.”

“And just make sure this stays on your side too,” Annabelle clarifies, gesturing to both Amy and Molly.

Both girls squeal in excitement seconds later, “Oh my God,” Molly says, “How long has it been since we’ve had a sleepover?”

“Way overdue,” Amy gushes.

“Let’s go watch that documentary about polar bears that I was telling you about last week.”

“Fuck yes.”

* * *

“Is that Hope’s?” Molly motions to the hoodie that Amy forgot about wearing, she didn’t even realize it, but her nose is buried in the collar of it, eyes closed, just breathing.

It’s a strange sight Amy guesses, or else Molly wouldn’t have brought it up.

Amy’s eyes flick open, and she shakes her head quickly, “No, it’s mine.”

“It smells like the inside of her car, plus it’s huge compared to you,” Molly informs, and Amy disregards how Molly’s face turns into a giant smile, despite her discomfort.

“If it was, why does it matter?”

“You two are being too loud,” Annabelle calls from across the room, the two ignoring her, and Molly shaking her head.

“This was what I was talking about before Amy, you’re totally giving her mixed signals.”

“Am not,” Amy objects, “she was just being nice.”

“What about the bag that you packed?” Molly raises a brow, “surely you would’ve packed an extra sweater, it being winter and all.”

“I guess I just didn’t think of that.”

“Sure,” Molly narrows her eyes, “keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t know what you think I feel, but I can assure you that it’s the opposite,” Amy says, “I may feel something, but that doesn’t automatically direct me to being in love with her.”

“You admitted it before,” Molly points out, “you didn’t even realize you did, if that means nothing then your delusional Amy.”

“I told you I was kidding,” Amy says.

“What about that party that you went to with your roommate,” Molly says, “you said that she was being overly affectionate.”

“That was different,” Amy confides, “people do irrational things when their high.”

“But you two were completely sober when you kissed her,” Molly says, moving closer to Amy, “none of the less it was _you_ who made the first move Amy.”

“I wasn’t thinking about it,” Amy slumps her shoulders, “I was just doing what felt right to me.”

“Which is why,” Molly trails off, “this means something.”

“It doesn’t,” Amy chimes in, “it’s just two people feeling something.”

“If it wasn’t anything, Amy, why the hell are you still here?”

“Because I like how she makes me feel.”

“Exactly,” Molly points out.

Amy shakes her head, “but that could be anything, it doesn’t mean that I’m in love with her.”

“Are you afraid of admitting that this is all real?” Molly asks, “or do you just want to keep denying yourself the ability to be actually happy?”

“I am happy,” Amy says.

“You are happy,” Molly alludes, “Hope makes you happy, I can see it, and she’s happy around you as well.”

“Just admit that you’re in love with her for fuck sake,” Annabelle grumbles, rolling onto her side pushing the pillow over her face.

“Even Annabelle supports you,” Molly says.

“No I don’t, you two just won’t shut up.”

“See?” Molly motions, “just admit it, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” Amy shakes her head, “this is big.”

“No it’s not Amy,” Molly shakes her head, “love is supposed to be something beautiful and unknown, that’s why me and Jared didn’t work.”

“So me and Hope are…?”

“Admit it to yourself before you do it aloud,” Molly says, “until then, try to not confuse yourself worse.”

* * *

They lie beside each other, breath stilling within lungs.   
  


“Amy,” Hope says, her face craning to catch her own eyes, blue and grey sheets covering them both.

Amy doesn’t know why, but there’s fear in Hope’s eyes, she doesn’t know what hers say, but she hopes that something will change.

“Tell me that meant something,” Hope says, “because it did to me.”

And it did. Amy felt the same intoxicating twisting in her chest, the feeling of drowning, everything like before, like Hope had just breathed life back into her lungs with every touch on her skin, but there was that feeling, a lead ball in the back of her throat, she fears saying the words. _She knows she can’t for the life of her get them out._

And Hope knows that, without another word, she watches her, put back all of her clothes, and leave the room.

It’s just her in Hope’s bed, her, and her greatest fear, being lost after found.

_Why does this need to be so complicated? It should be easy._

Amy bolts awake, Molly’s face in front of her own, a concerned look spreading across her features.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” She mumbles, blinking a few times to find a lamp flicked on, “what’s wrong?”

“You started talking in your sleep.”

“Oh,” Amy says, like she’s dumbfounded by that statement, like it’s the first time she’s been awakened after having this dream.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She nods, “What was I saying?”

“You just kept saying ‘ _No,’_ over and over,” Molly says, “at one point Annabelle thought you might have been possessed.”

“I’m find Moll,” she lies, “just go back to sleep.”

The light flicks back off, but Amy has never been so awake in her life, despite it being 4am.

* * *

Hope bolts awake to the sound of a ringtone, her eyes blinking open to orange streetlamps and the clock on her dash.

**_4:32am_ **

_‘Too early’_ She yawns, grabbing her phone and swiping the accept button.

_“Hope?”_

The voice, male, and it makes her more attuned to her surroundings, “Yeah, I’m here dad.”

_“What time is it there?”_

“I told you dad, there is no time difference between Connecticut and New York,” Hope smiles softly.

_“I know, I just like to hear you tell me that.”_

“Is everything okay?”

_“Yeah,”_ he says, _“I just had a bad dream again.”_

“Do you want to talk about it?”

_“Not really,”_ he sighs, _“Oscar was here though, thank God for that.”_

“Yeah,” Hope replies, “I’m glad you’re alright.”

_“Me too, Hope.”_

“Is he doing okay?” Hope asks, “are you feeding him and walking him?”

_“Christ, you act like I never raised you on my own_ ,” he laughs, _“yes Hope, I’m taking care of him.”_

“Good.”

_“Though I never understood why you felt the need to get me a dog before you left, I told you I’d be fine.”_

“For times like this dad,” Hope points out, “where I can’t personally calm you down, Oscar can relax you and you can practice your exercises from therapy.”

_“I know,”_ he replies.

“You have been going to therapy, right dad?”

_“Of course, Dale and Lorretta have been taking care of me too.”_

“Good.”

_“Yeah.”_

“I should go up there for Christmas,” Hope says, changing the subject.

_“That would be wonderful, but it’s up to you Hope.”_

“No,” Hope says, “we always celebrate together, it just wouldn’t be right if I didn’t drive up to go stay with you.”

_“Whatever you say,”_ he chuckles, _“how is the friend?”_

“I’m not sure,” Hope says, “I know she likes me dad, but it’s just… difficult for her to admit it.”

_“I know what you mean,”_ he says, _“if she wants this, then you’ll know.”_

“I already know dad,” Hope points out, “I know we have something, and it’s incredible.”

_“That’s good honey, you know I want you to be happy.”_

“Believe me, I do too,” Hope replies.

_“Then don’t let her go, don’t make the same mistake I did with your mother.”_

“If you didn’t make that mistake, I wouldn’t be around. You know?”

_“You were the one good thing out of all the hell I’ve gone through, I just want your life to be easier than mine, that’s all.”_

* * *

“Hey, good morning.” Hope says, Amy yawns, climbing into the passenger seat.

“Good morning to you too,” Amy says, “where to today?”

Molly slips into the backseat with Annabelle seconds later, causing Hope to turn around.

“I didn’t expect to be carpooling all of you guys.”

“Relax,” Molly says, “she’s here because we’re going to lunch later, and she doesn’t have anything else to do.”

“Couldn’t she meet us there?” Hope reasons.

“Alright, fine,” Annabelle says, “I wanted to come with.”

“Only because you lost a bet,” Molly points out, “you wouldn’t even be here, even if Amy twisted your arm.”

“For the record, I don’t incite violence,” Amy interrupts.

“Sure,” Molly says, “you didn’t just hurt me with how good you looked today.”

“Okay,” Hope says, “I’m going to kick you all out if you don’t shut up and tell me where we’re going.”

“Fine,” Molly says, “you don’t have to be such a bitch.”

“I’m not a bitch,” Hope says, “your just wasting time.”

“Anyway, we’re going to East Rock Park.”

“Oh, fuck no.” Hope groans, “I’m not going to a damn park in winter.”

“Okay,” Molly says, “slightly disappointed by that news, I suppose we could go to Annabelle’s choice.”

“Which is?”

“Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library.”

“Oh,” Hope says, “sounds educational and a total snooze fest.”

“Says the Columbia student,” Annabelle retorts.

“Just give me the fucking address so we can be done with this bullshit.”

* * *

Okay, maybe Hope had more fun than she expected, Amy just managed to take her to all the right spots, making jokes about the little things that made everything more amusing despite Annabelle’s fanfare of reading everything in sight.

They grabbed coffee and just kicked back on one of the couches, just chatting about how amusing everything seemed.

And Hope loved it, being with Amy, no pressure, granted she loves it all the time, but this was no different.

But it’s killing her, at the same time, because the feeling only grows, the more time she spends in Amy’s gaze, the more she wants this to become permanent. For her to be the only thing Amy sees. If she only knew the dreams, the thoughts, the feelings.

You can’t make someone feel something, and to explain feelings as whole is a task, especially when you don’t know what you’re even feeling. You can’t force someone to admit something for themselves before their ready to, but you can wait for them to do that.

However, at the end of the day, time was a bitch. Plain and simple.

But what wasn’t, was that despite everything, Hope still could not explain what it was about Amy that made her feel something so strongly, she loved everything about her.

The freckles on her hands, the way her eyes lighten when she talked about something that she found interesting, (and in turn, made Hope interested in it too.) how her forehead crinkles whenever she played her autoharp. Everything.

Hope would always find herself drowning within her inner thoughts regarding Amy, even when alone.

And all Hope wanted to do was tell her how much she wanted her, as her own, to be with her, for as long as possible. Because she’s fully able to surrender to the way her heart feels, and it all seems crazy that it was practically yesterday that she was just telling her she wanted a coffee.

She wants to protect Amy, be everything she could be, wants to treat Amy like she’s the most important thing in the entire state of New York… Scratch that, the entire goddamn universe, because she honestly was in Hope’s eyes.

Her dad wanted her to be happy, and Amy made her happy, everything was happier when Amy was around, so how could she make this permanent without making it stressful?

Because she knows, knows that Amy is frightened by any sort of possibility that this is something beyond normal, and it was. Hope could feel it, how everything relaxed, she was like therapy.

Being with her was everything.

_If only Amy could know how it was._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're all caught up... Now excuse me while I write a fuck ton more of this and attempt to scrape together what's to happen.
> 
> I never expected this to be over 11 chapters long, granted they are short, but I write in short bursts.
> 
> Biggest word count I've ever known ever.
> 
> Hope you stay tuned. Let me know what you think about it, and guess what happens.
> 
> Also... Updates daily. 
> 
> :)
> 
> Cheers!


	12. And I remember that fight, two-thirty a.m.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I make you cry a bit, here is the drama.

> _“If you’re looking for the word that means caring for someone beyond all rationality and wanting them to have everything they want no matter how much it destroys you, it’s love. And when you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes, or call you crazy, even then, especially then.” — Ted Mosby_

* * *

CHAPTER 12.)

_[December]_

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Amy asks, they’re lying on Hope’s couch, Amy’s head on Hope’s thigh as Hope reads Amy’s copy of _The Fault In Our Stars_.

“I’m going probably go drive up to see my dad,” Hope replies, looking down at Amy as she fiddles with the buttons on her phone, “what about you?”

“Molly and Annabelle are flying out to LA, so I’m going to go with them to see my parents.”

“That’s nice,” Hope replies, “I was actually going to ask if you wanted to meet my dad.”

Amy sits up, looking over at Hope, her eyes unmoving on the page in front of her, “Hope?”

Hope is silent, making Amy reach up to tug the book from her eyes, the action causing Hope’s eyes snap up.

“What?”

“You know I would, but I really want to just go home and see my family.”

Hope understands where Amy is coming from, after all, she was the one who thought of traveling up to see her dad for the holidays.

Granted Amy’s parent’s had each other for company, and her dad just had her Uncle and his wife, but it still hurt, just a bit, because deep down, she wanted to interduce Amy to her father.

“Yeah,” Hope replies, she didn’t mean for it to sound upset, but it comes out disappointed.

“Hey,” Amy mumbles softly, closing the book and moving to lay against the crook of Hope’s arm, “it’s okay.”

And at those words, Hope feels herself crack apart, letting go of any amount of hesitation, speaking from deep down within her feelings, and despite hating that, she knows in her gut that it’s the only way she’ll get through this without shying away from it any longer.

Because she’s tired of this, pretending their something, despite not having anything, that they’re nothing.

She knows she’s going the distance, doing something insane and crazy, but that was the thing about Amy Antsler, she made Hope able to insanely crazy things.

“I know,” Hope says, sighing, “I’m just tired of beating around the bush.”

And instantly Amy goes ridged, because they’ve never really gone into this, it’s not like Amy has forgot about the part where Hope’s desperately in love with her, but it’s not like Hope to talk about something like this, especially in correlation to her life.

“What does this have to do with me going to LA?” Amy asks, sitting upright.

And Hope breathes, momentarily doubting whether this was a good thing, despite every ounce of her heart telling her this was wrong in so many ways, that she could lose everything they’ve grown. Her mind lurches to action, fighting any hesitation, and giving her the green light. Her sanity depended on Amy.

“I know you know what I mean Amy, regarding this charade that you’re doing.”

And Amy does, but she doesn’t want to face the way her heart keeps lurching, making her shift upright off of the couch, wanting to get away from Hope’s proximity.

Maybe if she wasn’t facing her, it’d be easier to calm everything, to figure out the unknowns.

“Me?” Amy scoffs, “Hope, you’re kidding.”

Because Amy wants to avoid this, act like this wasn’t a big deal, like Hope was joking.

She wasn’t, and Amy knew that, but Amy wasn’t ready.

“Really?” Hope asks, “because all it feels like is that your stringing me along, taking me for granted.”

It stings, Hope flinches upon saying the words, and instantly curses the way that Amy’s heart shatters from within the look in her eyes. She wishes she could avoid this, but she can’t stop the words anymore.

This _had_ to have an ending.

It needed _something_.

_Anything_ was better than this limbo.

“You know I care about you,” Amy interjects, because she does.

Amy cares about Hope more than anything else in the world, and she can feel herself start to shatter upon every passing second.

It’s slow, like a knife wound, cutting you open in all the wrong places, and causing you to bleed out.

The pain, making you curse every aching second.

It was torture, because despite everything, Amy couldn’t say it, she just couldn’t admit how she feel.

And she desperately wanted to.

She’s losing herself upon every second she lets this last, but she can’t stop this, and it tears her open.

“Then tell me what this is,” Hope gestures between them, “because this is hard for me to keep hold of without going insane, when in reality, all I want to do is be with you.”

Amy can’t admit it, but it’s the same way.

She’s scrambling to search for any ounce of hope, because all Amy wants to do is say everything right and pretend that they’re fine. That _she’s_ fine.

Molly was right. She wasn’t.

“I know,” Amy says, “and I love everything you’ve done for me.”

It crushes Hope, because it’s not the words she desperately needs, it makes this more deadly, makes this more terrifying.

Hope wants to rip her hair out in frustration.

Because Hope loves everything about Amy, but how the fuck does Amy feel?

Does Amy _even_ feel anything?

“Then, what the hell is this? What does this mean?”

Amy feel her heart start to race, and starts to panic, wondering about what this means, because it isn’t nothing, it’s everything Amy wants.

But why can’t Amy wrap her head around it and let go of the fear?

Time seems to move in slow motion, because she’s on her feet, scrambling back into Hope’s room, Hope following closely behind her.

And Hope’s talking about something, but Amy can’t hear it, her mind is screaming at her, telling her to get out of everything, because she’s feeling too much, and it scares her.

Because despite feeling something for Hope, she’s scared to come to terms with it.

She wants to admit it, that she loves Hope _._ _Does she love Hope?_

That she wants more, but she doesn’t know what the future holds, she doesn’t know if Hope is truly ‘ _it.’_

Amy wants to be _it_ , wants it more than anything else in the world.

She wants to not fear this feeling anymore, because she wants to be _it_ for Hope, and be everything she could ever need.

But Amy doesn’t know what she needs, because she doesn’t actually know what she has to give, apart from a pointless fear of falling, a textbook explanation about what love is supposed to look like, and her thoughts.

It’s three things she needs to erase. Because whatever _this_ was, it was something more to Hope, and from the weight in her chest, it was something more to her as well.

She lets herself break apart, yanking open a drawer, tugging clothes out of it and turning to face Hope.

“You know I want this.”

And Hope is silent, completely in awe of each breath that Amy takes, and it’s just like the first time they met. Hope’s in awe, watching as she holds the clothes she left for herself here in white freckled knuckles, watching as the gears turn in the back of her mind, because she’s finally breaking apart. Searching for something sane within the giant fog in her mind.

“Do you Amy?”

It’s not even a second question, because Amy does in fact want this, but she knows that this scares her beyond anything else in the world, any other midterm, anything else.

Hope running from her scares the actual shit out of her.

So why was _she_ running? What does that say about her?

“I can’t do this, and I know you know that,” she says, and it’s honest. She can’t do it. She won’t allow herself to hurt Hope like this.

Even if she’s already doing this, hurting herself and Hope in the process, it was inevitable to avoid this conversation.

And it’s not even a moment later that Hope’s coming closer to her, every sane thought in her mind is telling Amy to move, avoid Hope’s gaze, because she can’t take this anymore, it’s like she’s drowning.

Like she’s wanting to breathe, despite being in an atmosphere made of oxygen. Like Hope _was_ her oxygen.

However, she stays glued to the spot, eyes fixed at the carpet, staring at Hope’s sock clad feet, and feels Hope’s arms as they twist around her shoulders, tugging her into a hug.

Lavender fabric softener enveloping through her nostrils, and it makes Amy subconsciously burry her face deeper into Hope’s shirt, feeling her hand as it rubs at the small of her back.

“You can’t allow yourself to fear the world around you, even if you can’t control it.”

Hope knows, knows how Amy feels, because she knows how hard it is, because she’s dealing with the same thing too, only her issues are the opposite, and she wants to tell Amy that it’s all going to be okay, but she honestly doesn’t know how Amy feels, because she isn’t Amy.

She cannot control Amy, and she wouldn’t ever want to either.

“But this is hard, don’t you understand?”

Hope does, she understands how hard it is to admit to anything, despite needing to, it’s like lying.

Like Amy is lying, to herself.

“How could I?” Hope says, and Hope’s voice almost breaks, because she doesn’t know what to actually say to make this right, because this was all about Amy, “you hardly say anything about these things.”

It’s true, feelings weren’t ever something to discuss often. Joshua Peters’ party didn’t do much except make Amy safer, she wanted Hope to protect her, but knew deep down… She didn’t know what exactly she needed to be protected from.

Amy never told her what scared her.

Silence was truly the worse pain.

And suddenly Molly’s words ring back into her mind, about how she could be hurting Hope without realizing it, without meaning to, and it crushes her, because it’s the thing she’s been trying to avoid for months, hurting Hope and herself.

But it hurts now, so every attempt to avoid this has proven to be pointless, because this conversation has been long overdue.

And yet, Amy still wants to avoid it, because she doesn’t know what’s to come out of this.

If it’s even anything. _Which it is._

Amy feels herself try to think, say something to fix this, but all she can really do is slump her shoulders, letting everything fall to the floor, ignoring her mind, ignoring how this all feels.

Because this is real.

Amy doesn’t doubt that for a second.

Amy is positive, that if it wasn’t for Hope holding onto her, she would’ve fell to the floor in a heap too, because she can’t handle what this all means.

She knows it, but she’s still struggling to admit it.

“I want this Hope,” She says, and it surprises her how Hope immediately stills at those words, because they’re the first attempt to make something out of this, so she tries to say it, “but I don’t know how to feel about this.”

Hope understands.

Despite everything else, she understands how this feels, how hard love feels when your blinded by your own eyes, when your scared to finally admit something that’s been haunting you everyday you look into the mirror.

Because she feels the same exact way wanting more with Amy.

It haunts her, holding her while they sleep, it haunts everything within her.

Because they aren’t anything, but it feels like there’s something here that lingers beyond the surface, beneath the riddles and phrases, beneath the fear. There’s truth, but Hope doesn’t want it to linger, she wants it all. _Amy Antsler in her entirety._

“What do you feel?”

“Everything,” Amy says, “and it fucking scares me, because I’ve never wanted something and feared it so badly.”

Hope wants to protect her, shield her from her own goddamn mind, and it drives her crazy that she honestly can’t.

Truth was, you can never turn something as major as a brain off.

So there was only one response, and it killed Hope, because as much as she wanted to see Amy, she needed to think, needed to sort everything out on her own.

Away from her. 2,795 miles away from her.

“Maybe it is best if sort this out on your own.”

And Amy can feel herself shatter completely. Because Hope has just submitted into her greatest fear.

She doesn’t want to accept that this could be her fate.

Because it wasn’t fate, it was a death wish.

“Hope,” Amy says, “ _no_.”

Like she can’t possibly comprehend this, like she’s going into absolute hysteria.

“You should, Amy, as much as I want this, I want you to be able to admit it,” Hope says, “you know how I feel, but it’s you.”

And Hope feels herself break apart too.

Because this was Amy Antsler.

The girl who too no prisoners, and brightened the fuck out of Hope’s dark ass world.

“O-Okay,” Amy nods.

And she knows that she doesn’t want this, she knows how badly this all feels, everything seems to be crashing down, because she’s never felt better than she had when she first met Hope, but she’s never felt worse leaving.

* * *

It’s been a few days.

Amy has started to become devoted on avoiding her phone as much as possible, she knows if she turns it on, she’ll be disappointed to see nothing from Hope.

They haven’t spoken.

Amy hates that.

She’s been trying to forget about everything, however, there’s something holding her back. Like she can’t fathom knowing what’ll happen when she sees her best friend after telling her about what took place.

Molly didn’t tell her a _‘I told you so!’_

But she probably should have, Amy deserved it after how naive she was.

Because now, without Hope, she’s never felt more alone in an airport full of people.

“Cheer up Ames, it’ll all be okay.”

Molly encloses her in a hug as she steps off of the escalator, luggage rolling behind her.

Amy’s still wearing Hope’s Columbia hoodie, because frankly, she can’t pull herself to take it off. Mostly because it still smells faintly of Hope, and it’s something Amy treasures.

It hurts, and it wasn’t even supposed to be anything.

It was supposed to be this tingly and warm feeling that made her want to smile and laugh…

Now the world seems to be having a better time than her, and it’s a shit place.

“Sure,” Amy mumbles, “try telling that to me five days ago.”

Molly leads her to a white Kia, “you know, if you truly want this, then you’ll figure it out, trust me. It’ll all be fine.”

That’s Molly’s way of telling her that she called this from the start. That Amy was too fucking blind to see how idiotic and stupid she was for even falling into this trap.

Amy blames herself.

But she’s glad Hope existed in her life, even if this was truly how it happened to end.

Amy doesn’t want that, no one should ever want that, but she’d understand if Hope would want that.

She hurt Hope.

But she truly wanted this, how the hell was she supposed to figure out how to fix this shit?

This wasn’t an English project for Ms. Fine’s class, not another high school science fair, this was real life.

And real life sucked.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then it wasn’t anything.”

“Molly,” Amy says, “It was something.”

Because she knows that now, the weight in her chest hasn’t left, it feels like she’s out of breath all the time, and her chest hurts.

Her _heart_ hurts.

_What. The Fuck?_

“At least your learning to admit that.”

“I know that now,” Amy says, “and it frightens me.”

And Amy does, she knows how Hope was everything wrapped up in the form of a waitress working at a diner close to Columbia.

Amy just slept on the plane ride there.

She couldn’t handle the sinking feeling inside of her chest, and Amy wants to admit that maybe it wasn’t anything, but it felt like it was more than nothing, she wants to make this right, but it was her.

Hope wanted her to be able to admit how she felt.

How _does_ she feel?

“How do you feel right now?”

And Amy wants to laugh, because it sounds so vague in it’s meaning, because Amy has a million answers scrolling through her mind right now, yet, she doesn’t know what to exactly say to make the monkey on her back leave.

So she goes with the one that she’s feeling the most, because even if her emotions are like spiraling fireworks, blowing up, crackling, and fizzing out in mere seconds, there’s one thing that never has faded.

“Pain.”

Molly looks over as she merges onto the highway, because it’s not like they’ve gone through the same thing, but Molly knows the feeling. They aren’t psychic, but they’re attuned to each other’s emotions.

Even if you can’t show someone how you feel, you can always sympathize and put yourself in similar shoes. Even if they’re different sized feet.

Because Molly understands.

Molly’s been there too.

“Do you feel as if you lost what you’ve always wanted?” Molly asks, and suddenly Amy exhales shakily.

Because that’s how it feels exactly, right down to the letter, Amy can’t stand how painful it feels to know that this is potentially an ending to something that never began… None of the less… Because of her own damn mind.

“Yes.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Molly says, “Doug and Charmaine will be so happy to see you.”

Because Molly just _had_ to bring up why she’s really here.

To see her parents, to put behind all of the drama in her own life and just celebrate the most wonderful time of the year… Wonderful her ass… This fucking sucks.

Forget about Hope, enjoy her family.

The people who don’t know anything about Hope, or Amy’s college life.

_Oh, how it was hard to be human._

_No one ever said that good things came easily, and they weren’t mistaken._

“You didn’t tell them about Hope, did you?”

Molly scoffs, glancing over at Amy, “What kind of friend would I be if I ratted your personal troubles out?”

_“Molly.”_

“No Amy, I didn’t,” Molly clarifies.

“Where’s Annabelle?”

“She’s out with her younger brother, apparently something came up, so she lent me her car.”

“Right, that makes sense.”

And just like that, Molly turns up the radio in the car, to the FM station that plays ‘70’s and ‘80’s hits.

They forget about the conversation about Hope, and Amy wants to cry.

Because sure enough, it’s Queen on the radio, _‘Somebody to Love.’_

Freddie Mercury’s singing to people, asking them to find him somebody to love, and Amy just suddenly gets it.

Because Hope was somebody.

_And Amy can feel herself break apart even more with every lyric._

* * *

Hope pulls into the driveway, the familiar house bringing images to mind.

_‘If he asks, tell him that it’s okay.’_

_‘You’re okay, it’s okay’_

“Fuck,” Hope mumbles, slamming her hands on the steering wheel before leaning her face forward and resting her forehead on the center.

The horn blares and it startles Hope, snapping her face up.

It earns a few more profanities on her end, and a Great Dane barking from inside the house.

The door opens, revealing a middle aged man from the screen door on the front porch, and Hope knows her father is wondering what she’s still doing in the car _. Move. Don’t look abnormal._

Hope takes a deep breath before unbuckling her seat belt, pushing open the car door, and plastering a large smile on her face.

“Hope!” Oscar immediately starts to jump on her leg, as she steps into the house.

Even if it felt good to see her father after so long, it didn’t mask the pain with Amy, she wanted more with Amy, wanted her here with her.

She wanted everything to be perfect between them. The best they’ve ever been.

She wanted more, and Amy didn’t know how to feel about more.

_More_. Such an invasive term.

Deadly, to any sort of thing, and it frustrated the fuck out of Hope that she wanted more. _Why_?

Why did she pride herself to become so goddamn attached to Amy Antsler?

Why did she ask for more?

She knew Amy couldn’t do more, so why even go there?

“Hi dad,” She calls, and a loud chuckle reverberates through her ears.

Familiar arms circle around her shoulders, and instantly she feels welcomed home.

Maybe this was what she needed anyway?

Something that was inevitably familiar to her.

_Family_.

“Down boy,” Dennis calls, and Oscar immediately pauses, continuing to pant at Hope’s feet, begging for attention.

“He’s fine dad, don’t yell at him.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” he informs, “he was trying to knock you over.”

_That’s how I feel right now, for different reasons._

“Let me handle him, it’s fine.”

“Right, I keep forgetting your almost twenty-one,” he laughs, “anyway, how are you?”

“I’m doing good,” it’s a lie, and she knows he knows it; however he doesn’t press for much more than a ‘how is Amy?’

_‘How is Amy?’_

_‘Hopefully okay,’_ Hope couldn’t stand the thought of Amy being in worse shape than her right now, it’s like everything has practically crumbled, despite how hard she tried to hold it all together.

Despite how hard she _is_ trying to hold together.

“I went to Connecticut, you know?” Hope begins, because if Amy couldn’t make her happy right now, then she might as well go back to old habits.

Dennis nods in acknowledgement, “you mentioned that, said that Amy’s friend took you on a bunch of joyrides.”

“Anyway,” Hope waves her hand, upon mention of Amy, she couldn’t taint this memory right now, “How come we never went to the Yale Center for British Art?”

Dennis scratches the back of his neck before thinking, “I’m not sure, I just never thought much regarding British artifacts, I suppose.”

“It was beautiful,” Hope says, and granted, most of the things that she found beautiful was Amy in different shades of lighting, but she’d never commit to anything, even if her life depended on it.

_Which, currently, her sanity did._

“I’m glad you enjoyed it then,” Dennis concludes, “I managed to make you more of a workstation in the garage.”

Upon remembering, Hope’s eyes snap open, momentarily forgetting about art, and remembering part of the reason she exactly wanted to come up here.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Dennis grins, “I actually pride myself in it, hold on, I want to show you.”

And they stand outside, in the middle of winter with Oscar shivering and turning patches of snow yellow while standing near the two of them.

“You didn’t touch her, did you?”

Dennis laughs softly, “No way kid, I’d never hurt your bike.”

“I needed to actually find a way to take it back with me,” Hope says.

Dennis hums, “I suppose that can be arranged, just give me a few days and I’m sure I can figure it out.”

And they talk for hours, talk about Hope’s lectures about art evolution, about her father playing cards with her Uncle Dale, and about his latest death trap solution for a problem in his home.

For the first time, Hope feels better than the last few days, she avoids confrontation about Amy, forgets to turn on her phone, and just enjoys being around her dad.

* * *

Thoughts keep Amy awake.

It’s jet lag mostly, but the option of sleep doesn’t particularly seem enjoyable.

However, despite this, Molly’s asleep on the bunk below her, and all she can do is toss and turn, mind reverting back to Hope’s words. She’s struggling to try to shut them all off, not to think too deeply into it.

Because she’s starting to understand.

When she overthinks, it leads to complications.

Complications lead to people getting hurt, and she hates that.

Amy’s parents were themselves, only a bit older, and still delusional about Molly.

Molly’s mom needed to stay late at her second job, allowing her to stay here without hassle, which was fine for Amy, she needed someone to entertain her to avoid this depressive funk, the guilt sinking low in her gut.

And Amy tries, she tries to rummage through her mind, evoke anything pleasant, except for that overwhelming feeling that sinks low into her gut, clawing and scratching, causing her grief, despite craving for something more.

_‘Hope wanted more.’_

What does she want?

She wants more of that feeling, yes, but she doesn’t want to deal with this again, ever again.

Why does it hurt so damn badly? Why does she want to fly back to New York?

She feels so empty laying in this top bunk, like her heart isn’t exactly there, like it’s half whole.

It’s like it went with Hope.

Like it _is_ with Hope, in fucking New York.

_Fuck_.

_Maybe Amy wants more too._

_This is so confusing._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, and another piece of this puzzle falls into place…
> 
> Can I get some props for writing over 4,000 words for one single chapter? 
> 
> My heart is breaking, oh my God.
> 
> I dare you to actually go through and listen to STL while reading that scene with Amy.
> 
> Damn, this took me a while though, it was a bitch to edit between crying sessions for these two.


	13. I’ve learned to lose you, can’t afford to

> _“What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man. But you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers.”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

CHAPTER 13.)

Hope keeps herself busy.

Busy or high.

That seems to be the best ways to get Amy off of her mind.

She wants to check her phone, see if Amy texted, or text Amy herself, but she doesn’t.

Instead she unpacks her suitcase, on her old twin bed, where her feet would almost dangle off of the edge.

The room was full of memories, yet Hope wishes there was a better feeling she felt while being in this room, because currently, the only feeling she feels is guilt.

She isn’t guilty in regard to Amy, she feels like she did the right thing mentally, but the fact was, she missed her voice.

She was guilty about how much she missed Amy.

Her room was bright yellow, something Dale helped achieve once she started talking, she couldn’t stand it by her teenage years, covering the excessively cheerful paint with posters and framed vinyl records.

Christmas lights strung across the crown molding, flicker as she moves to transfer clothes to the drawers.

Oscar stands in the doorway, unsure of coming into Hope’s space as she moves around it, tail static, eyes focused.

She empties the entire bag, apart from two items in the bottom.

 _The Fault In Our Stars_ , and her phone.

She sets the book on the bed and places her phone on the nightstand. Zipping the case shut and storing it in her closet.

She glances back to the phone before resisting the urge to power it back on, instead picking the book up and climbing onto her bed, springs creaking upon the new weight.

Hope sits with her back against the wall, patting her leg, Oscar eagerly moves forward and jumps up onto the bed, curling himself to rest his head against her thigh. She takes the book and flips open to the last page.

Amy had taken her time, highlighting certain phrases, underlining, and drawing points in margins. She wasn’t kidding when she said that she loved this book.

Hope wouldn’t admit it aloud, but the underlined and highlighted words brought her some comfort.

It wasn’t her intention on reading the last page before she finished the last chapter, but she found herself pulling open the dogeared page, to find the highlighted portions, nothing out of the ordinary.

But Hope reads it, and despite the feelings in her stomach, she smiles.

Amy only highlighted the last paragraph, and almost like a message written in code, she reads it.

_“What else? She is so beautiful. You don’t get tired of looking at her. You never worry if she is smarter than you: You know she is. She is funny without ever being mean. I love her. I am so lucky to love her, Van Houten. You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man. But you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices. I hope she likes hers._

_I do, Augustus._

_I do.”_

Hope doesn’t understand why she highlighted it, but there are words written down at the bottom of the page next to an arrow that Hope notices upon moving her thumb.

There tiny, easily mistakable for a speck of dirt, but Hope is able to read the small cursive.

_“If being hurt means losing love, then we are all bound to bleed alone.”_

_“However, it is better to try, and fail, for we are humans who will expire eventually.”_

_“And I may fear being mortal, but I fear being lost within love more than anything else.”_

Hope stares at it for a moment before a knock on her doorframe startles her.

Oscar makes no attempt to move, but Hope’s whole body flinches. Dennis giving a soft chuckle before crossing a threshold of the room, taking a seat beside Hope’s right leg.

“What are you up to?” He asks, and Hope moves the book to expose the title to the man’s eyes.

“I was just finishing this book.”

Dennis purses his lips, “You never read books.”

“Amy told me that I should read it.”

And Dennis’s expression softens, “How is she?” Dennis asks, “You seem to be avoiding all confrontation regarding her, is everything alright between you two?”

“Y-Yeah,” Hope stutters.

Hope thinks for a moment, because it’s all starting to click into place, why Amy was so scared to admit anything. Amy was more scared that she’d wind up like Hazel and Gus at the end of the day, falling in love, just to have it lost within the sea of time.

Hope finally understood, the whole point of the story, that Hazel was indeed heartbroken by Gus, but was thankful for his presence in her life, even if it was short lived and deeply meaningful.

Hazel would do it all again because she learned to let people in.

Hope learned that too, meeting Amy brought upon new dilemmas, new challenges, that Hope never thought of much before.

And Hope wonders, how she didn’t see it sooner, how she didn’t understand how scared Amy was to fully describe what they were, because she didn’t want to lose what they had together.

Hope realizes how love was indeed so unmistaken and bound to cause pain, it was inevitable. But there was something regarding how Hazel felt.

There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to die from cancer, and she was fully committed to any challenge she faced, never giving up.

But it never hurt worse than loosing love.

_And Amy never wanted to lose her._

_Because she felt something for Hope_

Hope shakes her head to find Dennis waving a hand in front of her eyes, making her gaze redirect to his eyes, “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’d you go just now?” Dennis asks, and Hope gives a shrug.

“I was just thinking.”

“About Amy?” Dennis asks, and Hope nods, “That’s normal.”

“We actually haven’t spoken for about a week now; we had a fight.”

Dennis’s jaw slackens, before sitting back and patting her calve, “Tell me about it kid.”

And Hope does, she tells him about wanting more, and telling Amy that she should figure out what she should want for herself, away from Hope, because it’d be an absolute mess.

Hope tells her about Hazel and Gus, about the message in the book, the highlighted paragraphs, and Dennis doesn’t say anything. He listens completely until Hope finishes.

Then there are six words that he utters that makes Hope want to bolt from the bed and run across the entire United States.

“You need to go to LA.”

And there is only one response that comes from her mouth.

“I know.”

* * *

Amy finds herself walking down the stairs, it’s after two in the morning.

Hope keeps her awake,

Charmaine stands in the kitchen, the light from the microwave illuminating her silhouette, and Amy is instantly thankful to not be alone.

“Hey,” Amy says, “What are you doing up?”

Charmaine gasps in shock, but sighs upon realizing Amy’s presence, “It’s just you. Sorry, you about gave me a heart attack.”

“What?” Amy asks, raising a brow.

“You just frightened me.”

“Sorry mom.”

“Anyway,” Charmaine says, “I couldn’t quite sleep, I’m guessing you’re the same way?”

Amy hums, “Sadly yes.”

“Well,” Charmaine says, “I’m afraid you get some of that insomnia from me.”

“I don’t have insomnia mom.”

“Your brain’s keeping you awake,” Charmaine says, pulling the microwave open a few seconds before the clock struck zero, “What’s keeping you up?”

“It’s complicated,” Amy says, and Charmaine pulls the mug from the microwave.

“I’ll say,” Charmaine says, “it’s keeping you awake.”

“Yeah,” Amy says.

“Come on sweetheart,” Charmaine says, “Sit down, and I’ll make you some tea.”

“Thanks mom,” Amy sighs, Charmaine flipping on the overhead light and grabbing a mug from the overhead cabinet.

“Earl Grey, right?”

“Yeah,” Amy nods.

“Talk to me sweetheart.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should ask dad this, because it’s relationship advice.”

Charmaine makes a sour expression before pursing her lips, “Okay.”

Amy’s eyes widen, and she waves her hand, “Not that I don’t like talking to you, I do mom, it’s just a girl thing.”

“Did you and Molly break up?”

“Me and Molly?” Amy raises a brow, “Mom, we aren’t a thing.”

“Sure sweetheart,” Charmaine smiles, “You don’t need to hide your relationships from us, we’ll love you no matter who you date.”

Amy frowns, “Anyway, I wanted to ask you something.”

“I’m all ears,” Charmaine hums, bringing the mug to her lips.

“I wanted to ask about dad.”

“Your father?” Charmaine raises a brow, “What about him?”

“How did you know that he was _The One_ for you?”

“Oh,” Charmaine smiles softly, “Your father was quite a charmer back in the day, I think it was inevitable.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Well,” Charmaine grins, “He was,” Charmaine takes another sip before clearing her throat, “Your father could probably charm the pants off of any girl really, so it was a shocker that he chose me.”

Amy frowns, holding up a hand, “Alright mom, I really don’t need to know the details.”

“Right,” Charmaine says, “We already had that talk.”

“Yeah,” Amy nods, “Kind of one of the reasons I really didn’t want to be with guys actually.”

Charmaine nods, “How I knew that your father was _The One_ was actually difficult.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Charmaine nods, “I was really hesitant in the beginning, but your father, he was just so persistent.”

“So you knew he was _The One_ because he was persistent?”

“Not exactly Amy,” Charmaine shakes her head, “There is no real way to decipher if someone is truly _The One_ for you, that’s something for time to predict.”

“But how did you tell mom?”

“The longer I spent time with your father, I started to grow more attached to the thought of having that be my normality,” Charmaine says, pulling the mug from the microwave and squeezing the remainder water from the tea bag. “But the real way that I truly realized your father was something different, was because I believed that he was different.”

“But weren’t you afraid of being wrong?”

Charmaine laughs, “Of course, but you can’t discover the world if you never leave your house.”

“Meaning?”

Charmaine sets the mug in front of Amy who takes a gingerly sip, “That’s how love works sweetheart, it’s unexplainable, but when you figure out that someone is truly willing to stay, it hits you like a giant freight train. It’s beyond inevitable.” Charmaine turns to rinse out her mug before setting it into the dishwasher, “Until one day, you find yourself up until 2am watching _Friends_ reruns together, and in the middle of Phoebe dissing carolers, you just get hit with that thought of knowing that someone is truly everything you’ve ever wanted in another human being, and you just end up believing that deep down, the feelings you share for this other person will never go away.”

“And they didn’t?”

Charmaine chuckles softly, “Explain yourself sweetie, we wouldn’t have had you if we didn’t know it.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Anyway,” Charmaine says, “Why do you ask?”

And Amy swallows for a moment, “No reason.”

“Really?” Charmaine asks.

Amy nods, “Anyway,” Amy takes another sip of her tea, before looking up, “Dad likes _Friends_?”

“Don’t tell him I told you,” Charmaine says, “I wasn’t actually supposed to tell anyone about that being his guilty pleasure.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Amy grins softly.

* * *

Hope pushes herself to turn on her phone the next day.

There’s nothing from Amy.

Nothing from anybody really.

And it sends a sinking feeling inside of her chest, like no one cared that she hasn’t shown any sign of life.

Then she remembers… She doesn’t have all that many friends anyway.

It takes minutes to repack, and put on her coat,

Hope manages to be in her car by nine in the morning on a Sunday. Something that even surprises herself.

She pushes the key into the ignition, and turns it, the car sputtering in reply, but other than that, nothing.

_It won’t fucking start. Great._

“Fuck!” Hope yells, trying several more times, but earning the same reply.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for cars not to start in this weather, it was twenty degrees of course, and every breath Hope took, earned white puffs of air in return, but Hope suspected the battery was eventually going to take a shit.

_What a fine time to do that._

Dennis comes out minutes later, knocking on the window, and Hope grumbles, “What’s wrong?”

“We have a situation,” Hope says, holding her hands up to her face and breathing into them for a minute before rubbing them together, in a poor attempt to contain body heat.

“What’s going on?” Dennis asks, earning an exasperated huff from Hope.

“My car won’t start.”

“What?” Dennis says, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Hope says, “I think there’s something wrong with the battery or something.”

Dennis sighs, “I’m sure I can get it looked at,”

“Can’t you go into the garage and get the jumper cables?” Hope asks.

Dennis stays silent, and thinks for a moment, “I think Dale actually took them for something.”

The sinking feeling returns, Hope is fearful that maybe she won’t make it to LA after all.

And after realizing how Amy feels, she really wants to get there.

_Fuck weather patterns._

“So much for going to LA like you said,” Hope mutters to herself, earning a puzzled look from Dennis, he’s uncomfortably silent, almost mentally mulling something over. “Dad?”

“Yeah?” Dennis says, “What’s up?”

“What’s wrong?” Hope raises a brow, “Why’d you go in your head just then?”

Dennis gives a smile, and looks down at Oscar, “No reason.”

“Dad,” Hope presses, “What are you hiding?”

“Come with me,” Dennis says, and he walks away from the car, back into the house.

Hope is confused for a moment, staring at the screen door as it closed behind Oscar, but she shakes it off and climbs out of the car, pushing her hands into her coat pockets as she climbed up the stoop.

“What’s going on?” Hope asks, “Why are you acting weird all of a sudden?”

Dennis reappears into the living room seconds later, holding something behind his back, “I suppose I can give you your Christmas present early.”

“What?” Hope’s jaw drops as he holds out two sheets of paper.

“What are these?” Hope asks, taking them into her hands, staring at the print for a moment before looking back at her father.

“Two plane tickets.”

“To LA?”

“Yes,” Dennis nods.

“Dad, no! You can’t spend money like this,” Hope interjects, handing the papers back, only to be redirected by a hand.

“I already did Hope, I want you to take this one and go see Amy.”

“You got two?”

“It was in case Amy came with you,” Dennis shrugs, “I’m sure I can return it, anyway Hope, I don’t want you to need to focus on the past.”

“But Dad-“

“No Hope,” Dennis interrupts, shaking his head, “You’re going to go on this plane, and get your girl, I’ll be fine.”

“How do you even know that she’d want to see me?”

Dennis smiles softly, “Sometimes people can surprise you.”

“I don’t even have a passport dad.”

“Covered that too,” Dennis grins, “I’ll get it in a minute.”

“Why are you doing this?” Hope asks, and Dennis smiles softly, staring at his daughter.

“Because, Hope,” Dennis begins, “Love can surprise you in many ways, and I learned that with your mother. It was unexpected and something that made everything more real, there is no reason to live life if you don’t have some sort of love in your life,” Dennis clears his throat, “Now, I’m not saying commit suicide otherwise, but the fact is, I never expected to have you, I never expected to join the military, I never expected having to raise you by myself, I never expected to be who I am today without knowing I had love in my life. That’s how unexpected love can be.”

Hope reads the print further and her eyes catch the date.

“So,” Hope says, “These are for Thursday.”

* * *

“So,” Dennis gives a small smile, “I was planning on kicking you out anyway.”

“Dad!” Hope scolds, “Why would you say that to me?”

“Because,” Dennis says, “You need to get on this plane and get your girl.”

“But what if she doesn’t want to see me?” Hope asks, Dennis simply gives a half-hearted shrug.

“If she doesn’t want to see you Hope, then it just wasn’t meant to be anything more than what it was.”

“But it was something,” Hope adds.

“Only she can tell you that,” Dennis points out.

“Right,” Hope says, “Thank you.”

“I love you kiddo,” He says, “I just want you to be happy.”

“I will,” Hope smiles.

* * *

**Annabelle**

_\---_

**[-Sunday-]**

_12/12/21 - [Picture]_

_‘shit, is that your bike?’ – 12/12/21_

_12/12/21 – ‘yes.’_

_‘I suddenly am now reconsidering my sexuality.’ – 12/12/21_

**[-Monday-]**

_12/13/21 – ‘lmao. I was trying to have it brought down to Columbia so I can ride it around during spring’_

_‘dude, if Amy doesn’t want to fuck you after that, I will voluntarily take her spot’ – 12/13/21_

**[-Tuesday-]**

_12/14/21 – ‘awe.’_

_12/14/21 – ‘your too kind.’_

_12/14/21 – ‘but you’re not really my type.’_

_‘ik, it’s Amy that you’re after.’ - 12/14/21_

_‘I was just fucking with you.’ 12/14/21_

**[-Wednesday-]**

_5:32PM - ‘yo, I’m flying to LA’_

_‘dude, that’s fucking crazy’ – 2:33 PM_

_5:38 PM – ‘how is Amy?’_

_‘idk, I haven’t talked to Amy much, I’ve been with my younger brother mostly’ – 3:21 PM_

_6:32 PM – ‘can you ask?’_

_6:33 PM - ‘please?’_

_‘depends, do you want me to ask Molly or Amy?’ - 4:42 PM_

_7:47 PM - ‘obviously Molly, I’m not sure I could handle hearing from Amy herself’_

_‘_

_Molly did tell me what happened, she bashed the fuck outta you.’- 4:52 PM_

_7:57 PM - ‘great.’_

_‘Molly says Amy seems depressed about something, probs due to you.’ – 5:24 PM_

_8:42 PM – ‘thx.’_

_‘np. let my guess though, you need someone to pick you up from the airport?’ – 10:57 PM_

**[-Today-]**

_1:04 AM – ‘how did you know?’_

_1:05 AM - ‘yes, I actually do.’_

_1:05 AM – ‘plane lands at 3pm’_

_‘I’ll be there.’ - 8:28 AM_

_{Read - 5:32 AM]_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, the plot twist with Hope’s car… and her father… Parent goals.
> 
> And I kind of stole that Amy and Charmaine scene from another fic… unintentionally… So if it seems familiar… that’s why. This is basically inspired after a bunch of unfinished fics on here actually. 
> 
> I keep listening to Taylor Swift… I think I need help.  
> Also… Annabelle has a brother? What? (It’ll make sense later.)
> 
> Btw… I kept having this story as a dream… and just gave into the urge to write it. 
> 
> Not sure if any of ya’ll needed this trash anyway, but I wanted to do it.
> 
> Also… you know I had to add a Friends reference in there somewhere… Phoebe is my actual spirit animal… And Lisa Kudrow mentioning liking herself? Come on… How can you not want that.
> 
> These two homosexual teens are my actual guilty pleasure.
> 
> They make me so fucking soft I stg, I’m going to end up writing some rom-com bullshit about these two… wait… nvm… damn, foiled my plans.
> 
> Also… Did you know… New York is actually three hours ahead of LA? It’s true. That’s why the time is all weird on the text conversation… 
> 
> Oscar is awesome.


	14. So tell me you believe in love, 'cause it’s not an illusion to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to take a mental day of rest. I was getting major eye strain from writing, and I take ownership regarding that. 
> 
> But here you go, I wrote this yesterday morning, and just started editing today.
> 
> (I have officially reached the 2 week mark of working on this story, so celebrate?)
> 
> (It used to take me 2 months to write one back when I was on this other site… I shall not speak of that, but yeah. Super proud and kind of ashamed on how well this is coming along.)
> 
> (Sorry for errors.)

> _"I used to be in such a hurry all the time. Everything was so urgent. Now I figure, if it's going to happen, it'll happen when it happens. I'm not going anywhere; she's not going anywhere. What's the rush, right?" — Ted Mosby_

* * *

CHAPTER 14.)

Leaving Dennis was a challenge like it always was, though despite missing Amy, Hope always felt that leaving her dad was a struggle in its own way.

Because, even though she didn’t have parents in LA like Amy, there was still a distance between Columbia and Yonkers.

It was only 25 minutes, but it’s not like she could travel between the two easily.

The flight however, seemed long, although being only six hours. It seemed like an eternity compared to most car rides.

There was the gnawing feeling low in her gut that had been there since reading the handwritten lines at the end of Amy’s book. She had planned on falling asleep on the plane, though sleep didn’t come easy.

She couldn’t exactly smoke on a plane either.

So Hope did the only thing she really could do, which was to sit there and think.

She thought about what was going to happen, playing the best scenarios, playing the worst, but all of them having Amy’s face.

Hope hasn’t seen it longer than she wanted to, being able to picture each freckle, each crease, like she was truly real, despite being only fantasy.

The plane lands on time, the turbulence being awful to endure.

Annabelle though, keeping her word, was on time, standing near the exit, and Hope, being extremely thankful that she had a ride didn’t complain.

She was more thankful to be in the same state as Amy for once in so long, more thankful to be there in one piece.

Hope had a strict goal however, to get Amy back.

Not that she had exactly lost her in the first place, but Amy wasn’t exactly near her due to her own words.

Annabelle gives an overly excessive wave as Hope steps off of the escalator, duffel bag slung over her shoulder, and luggage towing behind her.

“Hey, how was your flight?” She asks.

Hope thinks for a minute, looking around before repositioning the strap further up her shoulder.

“Long,” Hope mumbles, and instantly feels the need to leave, the gnawing feeling in her gut has significantly grown into something Hope desperately wants to cure since the plane had landed on the runway.

She knew the reason behind the feeling, she wanted to see Amy more than ever before.

Hope knew deep down, the fact that it was growing, was because she was merely miles from where Amy was.

This was Amy’s turf, Amy’s town.

The one everyone dreamed of traveling to. L-fucking-A.

_Oh, how Hope was secretly terrified deep down._

_What if Amy didn’t want to see her?_

_Annabelle did say that Amy seemed depressed, but that could be for any reason of course._

_Hope would understand if Amy would ignore any action Hope attempted to make, simply to provoke a reaction from her._

_But she would be devastated deep down, she would lose the one face she looks at when she closes her eyes._

“Dude, you’re not in New York anymore,” Annabelle laughs, gesturing to her jacket, and Hope raises a brow.

“What?” Hope asks, “Is there a problem with the way I’m dressed?”

Annabelle shakes her head quickly, “Dude, if you want to wear a jacket, it’s on you, but you don’t need that here.”

Upon passing through the exit, Hope understood what Annabelle meant, the sun blooms across her face, and instantly, she stops to shed her jacket.

“Seriously reconsidering moving here,” Hope mumbles as Annabelle leads them to a white Kia.

“How come?” She asks, Hope gives a shrugs, putting her things in the back hatch before climbing into the passenger seat.

“You guys have the luxury of summer during December,” Hope says, “How can you not go wrong with that?”

Annabelle laughs softly, “Snow is still cool.”

“It’s fucking cold,” Hope retorts, Annabelle’s car rumbling to life as she begins to drive out of the parking lot.

“Yeah,” Annabelle says, “I kind of miss New Haven because of that though.”

“What?” Hope laughs in disbelief, “Seriously?”

Annabelle nods, looking over with a smile, “You New Yorkers get the luxury of snow, we Californians deal with extreme heat.”

“Tell me how your miserable with being warm?”

Annabelle clicks her tongue, “Fair point.”

“Are we going to Amy’s?” Hope asks, and Annabelle frowns.

“Do you really think your going to get Amy back wearing sweatpants?”

Hope looks down, and sighs. She didn’t think much of what she was wearing, it was comfortable.

“I guess I didn’t think of that.”

Annabelle chuckles, “Of course you didn’t.”

“And you did?” Hope raises a brow, earning a satisfied hum from Annabelle.

“Sure did,” Annabelle says, “if Amy doesn’t admit how she feels when she sees you, then fucking sue me.”

Hope shrugs, “I draw the line on a lot of things, so you better be prepared.”

Annabelle looks over, “Trust me, when you yourself in it, Amy’s going to bang down my door for a date.”

“The day I see Amy bang down any other girl’s door for a date is the day I fucking die.”

“Right,” Annabelle chuckles, “I forgot about your whole situation.”

Because deep down, Hope’s feelings for Amy are more than emotions.

Emotions were something tangible, something able to be manipulated and persuaded.

Hope felt that as each day passed, that became less and less true to her own, it was becoming something bright and eternal, something unable to be ignored.

It was always there, in bright letters screaming back at her.

Because even though emotions and feelings are something that are easily spoken of in the same light, emotions were simply cut and dry things.

How Hope felt was something only described in magazines and books. Something that wasn’t described as simply being ‘happy,’ or being in ‘love.’

It was something that made her at a loss for words, made everything in her world switch axis’s all in one motion.

That was how it was with Amy, it made everything in Hope’s mind, feel different in so many ways.

All of them having one thing in common, she felt so much for Amy.

_And she wasn’t going to back down from possibly loosing those feelings._

* * *

Amy sat in the middle of her room, Molly being only feet away from her, sitting cross legged on the bottom bunk.

“So your telling me,” Molly raises a brow, “You haven’t turned on your phone since you left Hope’s?”

Amy looks up from her laptop, furrowing her brow, “Why is that a bad thing?”

Because the truth was, Amy had.

She didn’t want to open up her messages, only to find Hope’s chat without a new word.

It wasn’t something that she feared, but she feared the sinking feeling that would come if she did do that.

Molly sits up, scanning the room before meeting Amy’s face, “Just a quick Q for you.”

Amy gives a soft groan in displeasure, “What now?”

Molly raises a brow, a small smile tugging at her lips, “Where is your phone anyway?”

Amy huffs in return before returning her eyes to the screen, “In the drawer.”

Molly’s feet hit the floor, and she moves swiftly across the room, pulling open Amy’s desk drawer, and extracting a cell phone to Amy’s dismay.

“Amy,” Molly begins, earning a large grimace.

“Molly,” Amy says, “ _No_.”

“You are going to power on this phone, and you are going to text Hope.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Amy states, “Don’t you even know how crazy that seems?”

“ _Amy_.”

“No, Molly.”

Molly moves to sit in front of Amy’s frame, removing the laptop and grabbing both of her hands, “Yes Amy, you need to.”

“But-“

“Malala,” Molly shoots.

Amy’s eyes widen, “Molly.”

“I want you to text Hope, no questions asked.”

“You know you still only get one of those a year,” Amy says, “And I’m still upset after you pulled that on me when we were trying to get to Nick’s.”

“I know Amy,” Molly says, “But you need to actually do this Ames.”

Amy sighs in return, “What’s the point?”

Molly pulls away, grabbing the phone and putting it into Amy’s left hand, “I’m not going to let you give up on something that you know you want.”

“ _Molly_.”

“I know you want this Amy,” Molly interjects, “Don’t even try telling me otherwise.”

Amy rubs her eyes, looking down at her phone, replaying the words in her mind. Her eyes snap up to meet Molly’s, “I don’t even know what to say to her.”

Maybe that was a lie, Amy did know.

It all started with telling someone “Hello.”

But this felt different, more of a nail biting ordeal, because Amy was nervous about what she should say.

What words would make this seem not so scary?

How could she fix this?

Molly frowns and folds her arms over her chest, “Amy,” Amy sighs, Molly knew her game, she was trying to stall time to avoid this as much as possible, of course she did. They knew each other too well after all. “You know what to say.”

But maybe Amy didn’t, because this was Molly’s thing, starting groundbreaking conversations like these.

Amy wasn’t much of an independent person, she liked to follow closely in Molly’s footsteps.

Because Molly was always right about a lot of things, and Amy can’t lie without seeming completely obvious about it.

She holds her phone out to Molly, “Maybe you should just do it.”

Molly shakes her head, “I said-“

Amy nods, “Yeah Molly, I know what you said, but I’m fucking terrified about this.”

“Look Amy,” Molly says, “I want you to do this, do something for yourself for once.”

“I do that already Molly,” Amy says, making Molly shake her head.

“I know you like Hope, Amy,” Molly says, “Admit it.”

Amy feels her heart start to race upon those two words, her mind starts to panic, because even though Molly wouldn’t judge her, she knew that if she didn’t admit it, it would be an absolute lie.

Amy knew she liked Hope, she was just scared of admitting it in general.

Why? She didn’t know.

 _Okay_ , she had a guess.

She didn’t want to lose that feeling she had, she didn’t want to lose Hope.

But Molly?

Molly was her best friend, she wouldn’t judge her, she doesn’t care who she likes, as long as she was happy.

_And Amy knows._

_She knows with all of her heart, that Hope makes her happy._

_So she silences the thoughts, and says it without second guessing herself, because problems arise when she does that. (And she can’t really lie without it seeming obvious.)_

“I like Hope, Molly,” Amy says, and upon uttering the words, a smile starts to form, like a weight being lifted, she says it again, “I really like her.”

Molly gives a smile and nods, “Now hold down that button.”

Amy looks down, pressing her finger down, causing the screen to light up with a red battery.

“My battery,” Amy says, looking at Molly, “My phone’s dead.”

Molly reaches over to the bottom bunk and grabs her phone, “We’ll do it from mine then.”

Amy raises a brow, “How did you get Hope’s number?”

Molly gives a shrug, “I look through Annabelle’s phone every now and then.”

And they laugh for a minute before Molly hands Amy a new chat, she stares at it before pressing her finger on the message box.

She was terrified, and she hadn’t even typed anything yet.

What if Hope wouldn’t read this?

What if Hope hated her?

“Are you thinking about what to say?” Molly asks, and it makes Amy’s eyes look up, nodding.

“Let me see,” Amy hands the phone back to Molly, watching her tap the screen a few times before turning off the screen, staring at her for a moment.

“Did you text her?”

Molly shakes her head, “I texted Annabelle actually.”

“Oh.”

* * *

The white Kia stops in a residential driveway, Annabelle shifting the vehicle into park and twisting the key from the ignition.

“We’re here.”

Hope looks around, she noticed that it didn’t look much different from New York’s housing, apart from it being mid-December and being remotely warm.

The house seemed ordinary, almost mythical.

The siding, a light blue with grey shutters, and a metal handrail that led up to a maroon door.

Hope almost wanted to live here, it looked so nice and humble.

_Here with Amy…Wait._

“Where are we?” Hope raises a brow, unsure about their location regarding Annabelle’s relieved expression.

Annabelle frowns, “My house.”

“Oh,” Hope nods, “Just wanted to make sure.”

“Right,” Annabelle deadpans, “because, God knows I’d take you to some stranger’s house and leave you.”

“Hey,” Hope says, “I have no idea how predictable you are, I don’t know you as well as Amy and Molly do.”

“Now Molly,” Annabelle shrugs, “She would be a different story.”

Hope chuckles, “I’m going to tell Amy you said that.”

Annabelle shrugs, “Do it, and I’ll never hear the end of it from Davidson.”

There’s a subtle ping from the cupholder that make’s Annabelle’s brow furrow. She reaches for the phone and presses the home button.

“What’s going on?” Hope asks, Annabelle gives a shrug.

“Molly just texted me,” She replies, “Said that she was trying to get Amy to text you.”

Hope’s heart races at that thought, because she thought that Molly wouldn’t actually do anything that would benefit her. It sends a spark of adrenalin through her veins as she thinks about it more.

About the fact that Amy doesn’t know what to say, about the fact that Amy still is interested in her.

She didn’t know how to feel about the news.

Part of her was happy to hear any progress, however, the gnawing feeling inside of her stomach wasn’t letting up at all.

She was still nervous deep down, because Amy wasn’t exactly saying that she still was interested in Hope.

Hope didn’t know why that scared her.

“Did she?” Hope asks, and Annabelle frowns.

“Don’t ask me, check your phone.”

Hope does, and finds nothing new from Amy, despite having significantly higher expectations for Amy then prior hours.

“Anything?” Annabelle asks, and Hope shakes her head.

“Nothing.”

“Well,” Annabelle says, “Don’t sweat it.”

Annabelle gets out of the car, leaving Hope in there for a moment before following soon afterward, “So why are we even here?”

Annabelle frowns, “I want to show you something in our garage.”

“Oh,” Hope mumbles nonchalantly, “Why does this matter?”

“Shut the fuck up and just follow me,” Annabelle says, unlocking the side door and flipping on the overhead fluorescent light.

The room is bathed in white light, revealing a oversized tool bench and shelfs that contain labeled boxes, but that’s not what Hope notices first.

It’s the tarp covered object in the corner.

“This is neat and all,” Hope says, “But why are we-“

Annabelle turns on her heel and throws a glare as she steps beside the object, “Because, I wanted to show you this.”

Annabelle pulls off the tarp and what it reveals makes Hope’s heart momentarily pause.

It’s a 1991 Harley Davidson Fat Boy.

“A-Annabelle,” Hope stutters for a moment, completely taken aback, “What?”

Annabelle gives a laugh softly, “My brother was working on restoring it after our dad passed away several years ago.”

“Seriously?”

Annabelle nods, motioning between Hope and the bike, “Anyway, I already asked him about this, and he’s cool with it.”

“This?” Hope raises a brow.

“Your going to ride this over to Amy’s.”

“Oh,” Hope says, the words clicking into place as Annabelle motions to follow her into the house’s garage entrance.

“There’s work to do now,” Annabelle says, “Because you, my friend, need to look the part to get the girl.”

* * *

“Are you sure you didn’t see it?” Amy asks, searching through her suitcase for the tenth time that minute, before looking back to Molly’s confused face.

“Why are you so frazzled?” Molly asks, raising a brow, “It’s _just_ a book.”

Amy frowns, “It’s not _just_ a book Molly.”

“Okay, it’s not _just_ a book.”

“Thank you,” Amy sighs, “It’s the book that I read when I’m stressed.”

“I never understood why you enjoyed it so much, it was quite a dull plotline.”

Amy frowns, because despite her best friend agreeing and liking the majority of the same things as her, she didn’t see the appeal that she did when it came to _The Fault In Our Stars_.

“Molly,” Amy retorts, “It takes time to understand the whole appeal to the story.”

“It doesn’t have a happy ending Ames,” Molly states, “I don’t think you need to be sad right now.”

“Then what should I be?” Amy asks, “Because the last I knew Molly, Hope and I were something of history.”

“Don’t talk like that Amy,” Molly says, “You know Hope cares about you.”

“Do I?”

“I’m not sure if you do Amy,” Molly frowns, “But she does.”

“Well,” Amy states, “I’m going to ask my parents if they’ve seen it lying around.”

Amy walks down the stairs, only to find Charmaine in the kitchen cooking something, her father at the bar reading a self-help book.

“Hey,” Charmaine says, and it makes Doug look up from his book to find Amy, “What’s going on with you?”

“Not much mom,” Amy states, “Will dinner be done soon?”

Doug gives a smile, “I believe so.”

Charmaine nods, “Your father wanted me to try to make this vegan meatball recipe he came across on Pinterest last week.”

“Oh,” Amy says, forcing enthusiasm about her parent’s attempts at making fun out of modern meals, it was a phase that started back in high school, and apparently continued after she had moved out. “That’s cool.”

“Is everything alright with you and Molly honey?” Charmaine asks, earning a glance from Doug, and it makes Amy nod quickly.

“Oh yeah, Molly and I are fine,” Amy states, “I was just wondering if either of you came across my copy of _The Fault In Our Stars_ at all?”

Charmaine gives a hum, turning to Doug who has his brow furrowed, signaling he was in thought.

“I don’t believe so honey,” Charmaine says, and it makes Doug nod.

“Perhaps you left it back in your dorm?”

Okay, that was a thought, but it was highly unlikely. Amy swears that she’s seen it since break.

“Okay,” Amy smiles, “Call me down when dinner is ready.”

“Will Molly be joining us?” Doug asks, a smile brushing his mouth, earning a shrug from Amy.

“I’ll go ask.”

Amy pushes open the closed door to her room, revealing Molly in the same position, on the bunk with her fingers swiping on her phone.

“Any luck?” Molly asks, looking up to meet Amy’s eyes.

Amy shakes her head, “No.”

“Well I’m sure it’ll turn up Ames.”

“Hey,” Amy says, “My parents also want to know if you’re staying for dinner.”

Molly gives a shrug, “I’m not sure.”

Amy simply pinches the bridge of her nose, “Dad proposed some new recipe to mom.”

“Oh,” Molly says, “That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” Amy says, “Exactly why I need you to stay with me. You’re a terrible friend if you let me go through that alone.”

Molly gives a laugh before smiling, “Yeah.”

“Aren’t you going to see your mom eventually?”

Molly nods, “I expect to, her schedule is unpredictable right now because of the holidays though, so I can only really hope for the best right now.”

“I really wish you could go see her Moll,” Amy says, “I know you were really looking forward to seeing her.”

“Me too,” Molly says, “But I just want her to be able to pay for herself.”

“Right,” Amy nods.

“Anyway,” Molly says, “Didn’t you tell me at one point you lent your copy to Hope?”

_And Amy feels her heart jump into her throat upon her name._

_Her whole body practically freezes, she forgot about that._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also… Shout out to the movie reference scene, I really enjoyed writing Molly being super supportive and helpful.
> 
> (Also… The 1991 Harley Davidson Fat Boy was the motorcycle used by Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator 2: Judgement Day. Don’t ask me why, but I just felt like this was needed.)
> 
> (Hope’s bike is actually a 1977 Kawasaki KZ1000 in black. Only because, when I saw a picture of it in an old family photo album belonging to my dad, I just had that bike on my mind regarding this whole story. No one can tell me otherwise)


	15. For a moment, I can forget what happens in my head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go my lovelies!
> 
> Sorry it took so long to update. I had some things come up.
> 
> But we should be good to go for a while.
> 
> Sorry for errors. Tried my best. :)
> 
> Cheers!

> _“Sometimes, you read a book and it fills you with this weird evangelical zeal, and you become convinced that the shattered world will never be put back together unless and until all living humans read the book.”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

CHAPTER 15.)

“Okay Molly,” Doug chimes, “Tell me what you think of it.”

Charmaine stands next to her husband, staring at the two girls as they attempted to eat what she had prepared for dinner.

Molly gives a loud hum and nods enthusiastically, before holding up her hand.

“I think Molly is asking to go to the bathroom mom,” Amy says, looking over at Molly before she nods quickly.

“Oh,” Charmaine says, “Go ahead sweetie, we can just have Amy try it before you get back.”

Amy swallows, and shoots Molly a look as she removes herself from the barstool.

_‘Please don’t leave me alone with these people.’_

Molly tugs at the back of Amy’s shirt, making Doug and Charmaine go silent as Molly tugs Amy down the hallway to the bathroom.

She slams the door behind the two of them, and flips up the toilet lid, spitting the mouthful of food into the bowel and gagging.

“Do your parents know how bad they’re cooking is?”

Amy purses her lips before narrowing her eyes, “No, but whatever you do, do not tell them.”

“Of course I wouldn’t actually do that,” Molly deadpans, “The last thing we need is for Doug to start crying because you rejected his newest food creation.”

“Oh God,” Amy groans, “Don’t remind me of that.”

“But you need to pretend you like it Amy,” Molly states, “We both know you aren’t great at lying, but make it believable.”

“Dude,” Amy says, “That is so not happening, and you know that Moll.”

“Fine,” Molly groans, “What time did you say that your parents were leaving for mass?”

“At 5:30,” Amy looks down at her watch, “It’s 4:52 now.”

“Great,” Molly grimaces.

“Left side of the medicine cabinet.”

Molly reaches up to tug open the handle and removes a purple toothbrush, brushing her teeth before looking back at Amy, “You owe me big time for this.”

“Is everything alright?” Doug asks, and Charmaine shares the same question before Molly nods quickly upon returning.

“Me and Ames just feel so full,” Molly lies, patting Amy’s stomach earning a glare from her, quickly stepping out of Molly’s arms reach, “isn’t that right?”

Amy nods quickly, “Yep!”

“But you guys only took like two bites,” Charmaine points out, “And you haven’t tried Doug’s vegan and gluten free chocolate chip cookies.”

Doug looks completely disappointed and Amy almost feels bad, they’re completely bullshitting her parents.

“I’m sorry mom,” Amy says, “Me and Molly are just… _dieting together_.”

_Fucking hell._

Molly shoots her an unimpressed look, ‘ _What the hell are you saying?’_

Amy forces a wide smile, trying to sell it, apart from Molly’s elbow that threatens to connect with her side to stop her from saying any more bullshit. _As if._

Amy thinks she might actually need that after what she just said.

“Oh Molly honey,” Doug says, “You look beautiful just the way you are.”

Charmaine nods, “You don’t need to diet, you look perfect.”

Molly gives a large smile, and looks back to Amy, “Why thank you Char-Char and Dougcicles, you two are too kind.”

_‘I look fine the way I am, and it’s not my fault for my slow metabolism Amy. You don’t need to be a bitch.’_

“Mom?” Amy says, partially recoiling, and trying to compose herself without forgetting the mission at hand, “What about me?”

Doug’s eyes widen, “Your crazy for thinking that you need to diet too Amy, your practically skin and bones.”

“Maybe you should stay and finish your dinner,” Charmaine says, and Amy swallows.

“I’m almost twenty-one, mom.”

“That doesn’t mean that you are not my daughter sweetheart.”

“Don’t worry Char,” Molly says, wrapping an arm around Amy, “I can just have Amy eat the rest of her dinner upstairs.”

_‘You owe me for this.’_

“Well,” Charmaine ponders, “I suppose that would be fine.”

“Great!” Molly shoots, grabbing the plate and rushing up the stairs with Amy not far behind her, “Bye!”

“Young love,” Doug sighs, looking over to Charmaine before nudging her arm, “Remember when we were that age honey?”

“Don’t remind me,” Charmaine frowns, turning away from the breakfast bar to start cleaning up the cookware, “I don’t want to remember how much prettier I used to be.”

“Sweetheart you look perfect at any age,” Doug smiles, pecking his wife’s cheek before following her lead.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to ride this?” Annabelle asks, Hope’s hands clutch the handlebars and grimace at her.

“Patience grasshopper,” Hope replies, earning a confused glance from Annabelle, she shakes her head before clearing her throat, “Yes, I will.”

“Good,” Annabelle says, “I really want you to get Amy back.”

Hope furrows her brow, “I thought you didn’t like either of them.”

Annabelle shakes her head, “I didn’t like Davidson, I didn’t say anything about Amy.”

“Why is Amy different then?” Hope asks, and Annabelle shrugs.

“Back in high school they used to call me Triple A as like an offensive term.”

“Oh my God,” Hope chuckles, her eyes widening in disbelief, “Really?”

Annabelle nods, holding up her finger, “Don’t even think about starting that shit now Conrad.”

Hope shrugs, holding a hand over her heart, “I make no promises.”

“Anyway,” Annabelle shakes her head, “Amy was the only one who called out that shit, she apparently stood up for it when Molly would try to say it in conversations and whatnot.”

“But why?” Hope asks, “Why would she just automatically resort to helping you? It’s not like you were ever nice to either of them, right?”

Annabelle bobs her head, “Yeah, but I guess Amy really has her soft side.”

“I know.”

“I mean back after she came out sophomore year, we all kind of found ourselves shitting on her because we saw ourselves at the top of some kind of hierarchy in the school system, and I guess we just automatically assumed back then, that Amy and Molly would be at the lowest of the rungs, and honestly, I still don’t understand why we did that, because that’s totally the opposite now,” Annabelle frowns, rubbing her forehead before pursing her lips, “and if I’m being honest, I regret even attempting to light those fires dude, because Amy is like… super cool compared to most people, and that’s not because I’m dealing with Molly twenty-four seven.”

“So what is it?” Hope asks.

“I’m not sure,” Annabelle says, “But Amy isn’t your average LA girl, she’s extremely intelligent and will call out bullshit when she sees it.”

“Well,” Hope grins, “She hasn’t called me out yet, so there’s that.”

Annabelle laughs softly, “Better stay on your toes then.”

“You know I don’t need to,” Hope retorts.

“You really don’t,” Annabelle acknowledges, “Amy really loves you.”

“She does?”

Annabelle nods, “She’s just scared to admit it.”

“I think I knew that already though,” Hope says.

“She doesn’t want to lose you,” Annabelle replies firmly, “Back when you guys came to New Haven, Molly got her talking and at one point Amy just admitted that. I think it’s one of her greatest fears actually, because somehow you’ve just gotten yourself under her skin.”

“Should I be excited about that?”

“Are you going to break her heart?” Annabelle asks, Hope frowns.

“Why the fuck would I fly to LA to break someone’s heart?” Hope frowns, “Especially this close to Christmas no less.”

Annabelle holds up her hands, attempting to diffuse the situation, “Look, I still don’t know what you’re capable of.”

“Well,” Hope grimaces, “Whoever would do that is an extremely shitty person.”

“Totally agree with you on that one,” Annabelle nods.

“I wouldn’t anyway,” Hope says, “I’ve fallen for Amy.”

“Are you ready to ride that over to hers then?” Annabelle asks, tugging her phone from her pocket, and it makes Hope shrug.

“I suppose.”

Truth was, Hope could feel her heart jump into the back of her throat upon realizing that it was almost time to go see Amy, that this plan was in full swing.

That she was going to finally be a fucking badass.

Damn she felt good in this leather jacket.

Maybe it was going to her head.

“Alright, but whatever you do,” Annabelle frowns, “Do not get a fucking ticket.”

“Right,” Hope mumbles, “That’s self-explanatory dipshit.”

“I’m serious,” Annabelle says, “The last thing we need is for you to get arrested like Amy.”

“Amy got arrested?” Hope’s eyes widen, earning a loud cackle from Annabelle.

“She never told you?”

“Dude,” Hope says, “Tell me what she did.”

“Later,” Annabelle waves, “I’ll text you the videos and the part where she totally wrecked Jared’s car.”

“Oh my God.” Hope scoffs, “Your making me not actually want to leave.”

“Leave!” Annabelle laughs, “You need to get your fucking girl.”

“Right,” Hope nods, revving the engine and kicking the stand before tearing out of the driveway.

The houses look extremely similar, apart from colors. Similar lawn length, similar cars.

Yeah, maybe Hope could envision herself moving out here with Amy.

Well, her dad would need to move here too. There was no way she was going to voluntarily be that far away from him, and no way that she would allow him to live with her and Amy.

Okay, maybe she was getting ahead of herself, Amy hadn’t even said yes yet.

Pulling up to a stop sign at the end of the street however, prompted a thought to arise, earning a loud groan and for Hope to do a U-Turn.

_‘Where the fuck does Amy live?’_

“Bitch!” Hope yells, Annabelle, seamlessly starts laughing, “I have no idea where the fuck she lives.”

“I was wondering when you were going to ask that question.”

* * *

“Are you leaving already?” Amy asks, as Charmaine pokes her head through the doorway earning a displeased sigh from Molly.

“Are you really?”

Charmaine nods, “Your father has the car running downstairs, I figured I’d say goodbye before we left.”

“Well,” Molly says, pumping an enthusiastic fist in the air, “You gotta go praise Jesus.”

Amy frowns, slapping her friend’s arm, “What Molly is trying to say Mom, is that we’ll see you when you get back.”

Charmaine moves to embrace her daughter, and smiles at Molly before nodding, “Alright then girls, I’ll see you back at 8.”

“Love you mom,” Amy calls, earning an echo from Charmaine before she hears the front door slam shut downstairs.

“What’s with your thing and God?” Molly asks, “Like you were really enthusiastic about it when you were living together, what changed?”

“I don’t think Mom wants to force me to go to church when I’ve got company Moll.”

“I completely forgot about that,” Molly chuckles.

“Did you actually forget that?”

“No,” Molly grins, “I know your mom wouldn’t have it in her heart to kick me out.”

 _‘Well I might,’_ Amy thinks for a moment before climbing down from the top bunk.

“I’m going to go get something from downstairs, I’ll be back in a few,” She hollers down the hall.

“Okay!” Molly echoes.

* * *

“Alright,” Hope says, “I think I’m at the right house.”

“ _It’s blue_ ,” Annabelle says, over the receiver making Hope frown.

Sure enough, Hope’s staring up at a blue house, white shutters, and an extremely expansive driveway.

Hope feels her heart start to race, there’s a light on in the far room, and Hope can almost make out a silhouette.

She’s not sure how to feel about this, but she feels her hands grow clammy and her eyes squeeze shut tightly, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t secretly dreading this, but at the same time, she wonders what could happen.

“I’m not fucking colorblind,” She hisses out, earning an unimpressed chuckle.

“ _Oh_ ,” Annabelle says, “ _I couldn’t tell_.”

“Eat shit,” She deadpans, pulling the phone from her ear and ending the call.

She feels her breath hitch upon hearing a loud voice above her, she looks up to find Molly’s confused face peering out of the windowsill.

“Hope?”

“Yeah?” She replies.

“What are you doing here?”

Hope thinks for a moment, swallowing, because in all honesty… _What was she doing here?_

_Oh right, getting Amy Antsler of all girls to admit how desperately she wants to be her girlfriend. Duh._

_She loves Amy._

_Does Amy?_

Hope doesn’t even want to think about that.

“I was looking for Amy,” She says, “She lives here right?”

Was it possible to be even more a dork? Hope’s not sure, but Molly nods confused.

“Did you want me to let her know you’re here?”

Hope shrugs, “It would be nice.”

Molly nods, “Hold on.”

And Hope can feel her pulse quicken, with every passing second, Hope wishes for all of this to end and for the outcome to make itself known sooner than later, however, it seemed with her luck, the outcome would stretch on for centuries.

The windowsill shuts and instantly Hope can hear some clamoring from inside the house.

* * *

“Amy!” Molly rushes down the stairs, “Amy!”

Amy practically drops her mug of hot coco with a start, and eyes widening in confusion.

Amy instantly feels her stomach flip in shock, Molly looking completely disheveled and obviously in need of a glass of water.

“Jesus Christ!” She yells.

Molly takes a deep breath, taking Amy’s mug from her hand and downing it, earning a loud gasp.

“That’s fucking hot!” Molly yells, “Holy fuck.”

“I just made it!” Amy groans, “I’ll have to fucking make another mug now thanks to you.”

“Love you too girl.”

“You’re lucky,” Amy deadpans, making another mug and putting it into the microwave.

“Anyway,” Molly says, “Someone is here to see you.”

“Huh?” Amy’s brow furrows, “I’m not expecting anyone.”

Molly groans, “Quit being so stupid.”

“I’m not-“ Molly cuts Amy off by grabbing hold of her wrist and pulling her face to look out the window that viewed the driveway. 

Amy thinks her heart momentarily stops. There Hope Conrad is, in a vintage leather jacket, slightly damp white V-neck shirt, and black biker pants.

Her scalp is buried beneath a large helmet with the visor pushed up.

Scratch that… Amy’s positive her heart stops.

Because she knows now that Hope is feet away, and that she can finally talk to her after so long. However she’s nervous deep down, because she knows how their last conversation went, it haunts her practically night and day, and yet… here she was.

Looking beautiful.

Okay, there was a million other adjectives she could have used, million other thoughts she could of chose, but Amy’s mind was still processing the fact that Hope came all the way from New York to see her.

How she managed to get a motorcycle was beyond Amy’s concern at the moment, all she wanted to do was kiss her.

“She looks like a freaking snack.”

And Amy would admit deep down, Hope looked pretty fuckable…

But there was still that one conscious part of her that wanted to run from this, ignore that she was even there, because she wasn’t ready to talk about all of the reasons she had to leave.

Amy didn’t want to reminisce the past, she didn’t want to feel the same way that she did before when she left Hope the first time.

She was scared of that happening again, scared of losing everything, losing the conscious decisions inside of her mind.

Amy knew, when Hope was around, she made things more complicated. Her presence conflicted emotions within Amy’s chest.

Amy wasn’t sure if they were truly emotions because surely, emotions were easier to describe than this.

“Go out there you!” Molly says, guiding Amy to the front door before Amy’s hand reaches up to rest against the brass knob.

“Wait,” She says, and it makes Molly grumble.

“What now?”

Because Amy feels the same fluttering feeling she’s felt months prior, the same thing she’s felt since the first time laying eyes on Hope lanky frame and daring eyes.

Eyes that could make her drown if she stared into them long enough, tattoos that she wishes to graze her fingers over countless times.

There are things about Hope Conrad that makes Amy want to jump out, say everything, though, there’s still the conscious state in the back of her mind, still the logic behind the _‘what ifs.’_

Because Amy can’t ignore them, but Amy can never lie without making it seem overly obvious.

Hope knew how she felt, Hope wanted to hear her say it for herself.

_That little bitch…Wait a minute…That **tall** bitch…_

“Do I look okay?” She asks, and Molly gives her a look of, _‘Are you really doing this right now?’_

_Yes she was, she was still terrified._

_Hope was the one thing that had been eating away at her, keeping her unable to fall asleep._

_Hope was the one thing driving her crazy._

“Yes,” Molly shouts, “Now go!”

And it takes a lot of confidence to twist the knob to find the screen door behind it.

It makes Amy’s heart pick up gradually, with every step, it almost feels like it’s in slow motion, because Hope’s taking off the helmet, flipping her hair swiftly, and it makes it skew across the black leather elegantly.

“If this were a movie,” Hope beings, “This would be the part where I finally get you to admit how you feel.”

And Amy can’t help but look down at the pavement, her heart in her mouth, trying to get a grip on her racing mind.

She wants to push all of those thoughts from her mind, make them futile in changing her overall opinion regarding Hope, but there’s still the one part of her that fears losing whatever this was.

She fears liking Hope this much, but at the same time, it feels right an all too natural.

This couldn’t be by chance.

“But we aren’t in a movie Amy,” Hope says, “Anyone coming to LA for another person is just destined to get their hopes crushed.”

“None of the less,” Amy looks up, “Coming here for me.”

Hope gives a grin, and it’s just like the first time all over again. Amy’s world rights itself within all the wrong axis’s before. She feels perfect within that gaze.

Just like Hazel did with Gus’s… _Wait_.

“Amy Antsler,” Hope confides, “For you, I’d go anywhere.”

Amy’s heart momentarily pauses, this felt all too good to be true.

“R-Really?”

Hope nods, shifting her weight on the bike to keep her balance, “But Amy.”

And Amy can feel her heart start to pick up again, she’s able to see the tattoos lining the collar of Hope’s shirt, they peak out faintly, the damp material leaving outlines of colored ink through the white material.

Amy wonders how many more Hope has.

Could she possibly see them?

“I came here to ask you something.”

And here it was, Hope’s way of asking how she felt about her.

Her mind starts to pick up speed, trying to think of a way to avoid this, pick her feet up and walk back into the house, anything to get out of telling Hope what she exactly feels, because it was hard for her to even admit it to herself.

“You want me to tell you how I feel,” Amy comments, and she feels Hope mentally jump, “And I seriously want to tell you, but I’m still scared to.”

Hope clears her throat and stands the motorcycle to an upright position, going into one of the side compartments, she retrieves the worn copy of _The Fault In Our Stars_ , and it makes Amy’s mind pause.

“I finished it,” Hope says, gesturing the book to Amy, “And I’m not saying I skipped through half the story, read the last page and looked up the spoilers online Amy, I actually read it.”

“Did you…”

Hope nods firmly, “I read the note on the last page.”

“O-Oh,” She stutters, “I forgot about that.”  
  
Amy takes the book into her hands and skims her fingers over the cover, looking up at Hope before smiling softly, “Thanks for bringing it back.”

“I wanted to ask you something though Amy,” Hope says.

“I guess I’m all ears.”

“What are you afraid of?” Hope asks, gesturing between them, “Between us.”

And Amy’s mind completely short circuits at the look Hope has in her eyes, it’s magnified by the way her heart practically falls prey to the feeling of her stomach twirling.

Almost like being on a spiny ride, Amy wants to vomit, because this is so nerve-wracking to endure.

Her feelings are so utterly complicated to depict.

But she had feelings for Hope, there was no doubt about that, and the fact that Hope came to her despite pushing her away shows the magnitude that they had.

_How much Hope was willing to give to allow herself to feel something for Amy._

_Why couldn’t she just fucking say it?_

“If you read the last page then you would know how I feel.”

It makes Hope shake her head, “I want to hear you say it for yourself,” Hope says, “Admit it here to my face.”

And instantly Amy’s mind struggles to process what exactly she fears because there’s so many things.

All of them ending with Hope.

“Hope I-“ Amy shakes her head, her tongue is tied in a knot, there’s a growing pit in her gut and a gnawing feeling starts to make its way into her chest, almost like she’s fearing all of these feelings.

“ _Amy_.”

And instantly Amy feels herself be transported back to Joshua Peters’ party back in September, and she flicks her eyes open, making everything start to move in slow motion, the words coming out in a rush that Hope’s eyes seemingly dilate to them.

“I’m scared of this Hope,” Amy exhales, because deep down, she doesn’t think about it, doesn’t lie, “Because I don’t want to lose you.”

Hope’s body moves in a single fluid motion, hands move to cup her cheeks as lips press against her own.

And it always feels like the first time, Hope’s lips tasting of spearmint gum and her hands feel soft against her face. Amy swears that the way that Hope touches her, she will not be able to withstand the feelings that start to cyclone.

It’s raw and yet, seemingly passionate, and Amy can’t help but feel her eyes close watching the visual fireworks behind her eyes, like it’s an absolute movie.

Because that’s what this feels like.

Like Hope isn’t real, that this is too fucking good to be happening to her.

And Hope feels everything from the prior days subside, all seemingly blooming into something strange and obscure to any eye.

This wasn’t love, at least this wasn’t anything Hope knew anything about.

It was something purely of her subconscious, something that filled her imagination to the brink of possibilities.

Something she’s always dreamed of achieving.

Because Amy Antsler in her own way, is a work of pure art.

She doesn’t know how much time passes, but Hope could swear that the world would end at this point and she wouldn’t honestly give a fuck.

She was happy, here with Amy.

But she pulls away, holding Amy’s waist close to her, bottom lip snared between her teeth.

“I will never leave you alone Amy.”

Amy feels her eyes open and lock onto Hope’s, and it feels like all of the pointless fears and overly rational objections to this was completely idiocy in its own form. Because they aren’t Hazel and Gus, they’re two different people, feeling something that resembles what only either of them can believe is some sort of cocktail of love.

Her mind silences, and she feels herself fall.

“I think I might be falling in love with this.”

Hope’s grin widens and she laughs softly, it makes Amy frown for a moment. But Hope just shakes her head.

“Now, I guess we can’t have that, can we?” Amy smiles too, because it’s all too crazy, she feels everything feel ultimately right and completely whole within her mind.

This feels good, almost destined.

And Amy doesn’t feel scared anymore. She doesn’t know why she was in the first place, all she really had to do was admit she was, and discard her fear.

Fear is a choice; it doesn’t get simpler than that.

But it seemed that everything Amy was, completely became everything she never knew she had.

All because of Hope.

“I guess we can’t,” She smiles, and laughs.

She isn’t laughing for the same reason Hope is, she’s laughing at how surreal this was, how stupid it was for not being so obvious that Hope was going to end up changing her.

Maybe Amy secretly liked the fact that Hope had that capability.

“Well,” Hope grins, “Your wife will be devastated then.”

And immediately Amy scowls, Goddamn these fucking people.

“She is not my wife,” Amy says, “I’ll have you know that because one-“ And Hope cuts her off, kissing her again, and honestly, does she really mind? _Nah_.

Fighting this was pointless the whole time, love is an inevitable invisible creature.

And Amy pulls her into the house, by her wrist, because she honestly doesn’t need to be scared of this anymore.

She knows it’s stupid, and she can never lie without it being ridiculous.

“Where are you taking me?”

And Amy feels her amused expression from the back of her head, feels the glint in her eyes as they come across Molly being overly suspicious with an upside down copy of _War and Peace_.

“Did you two make up?” She asks, but the response is almost instinctive.

She gestures her thumb to the door, “Out.”

Molly looks immediately horrified, “But-“

And Hope laughs softly, as Amy shakes her head, “Now Moll.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“Anywhere but here,” Amy adds.

“Amy!” Molly groans, “Why?”

“Because,” Hope chimes in, “She said so, and you better listen to your wife.”

Amy tries to really think up a retort that went against Hope’s stupid jabs, but really?

What’s the actual point, she knows Hope won’t stop.

At least, not yet.

“Fuck you dude,” Molly says, earning a concerned frown from Amy.

“Woah dude, be careful.”

“Amy,” Molly cuts in, “You know I don’t have anywhere else to really go.”

“Well,” Amy says, “You could always go up to the church and stall my parents for us.”

Molly purses her lips, “Alright,” and holds up a finger, “but only because you’re my best friend, not because I’m actually insulted that this thing has the capability of making you do such irrational things like kicking me out.”

“Just please leave Molly,” Hope groans.

“And she isn’t a thing Molls,” Amy says, “She’s something special.”

“Alright,” Molly says, “I’m just upset that I now owe Annabelle money now.”

“Leave!” They shout in unison.

“I’m leaving!” Molly says, “Go on you fucking filthy animals with your bad selves.”

The front door slams shut, and instantly Amy feels a sense of giddiness, pulling Hope by her wrist up the stairs,

“Are we really doing this?” Hope laughs to herself as Amy pushes open the door.

And it’s just like the first time, first everything.

Because it honestly was.

It was pointless to fear falling when you’ve already fallen.

Hope’s lips against her own scream ‘ _More_ ,’ in all the ways that make Amy want to give.

“I want to,” Amy says, “If you want to.”

_“I do Amy.”_

Amy feels herself deep down, melt a little. Because Hope at her core was something purely terrifyingly sweet.

She doesn’t comment about the posters in her room, or her strange wallpaper, she just asks about the bunk beds. Something made to defy tall people’s physics.

_Oh, how Amy wishes she had a normal bed for once._

But Hope doesn’t care, she just shrugs and smiles, “We’ll work it out when we get to it.”

And Amy believes that.

Because none of what happened to get them here really matters at this point, because at the moment, all Amy really wants out of life is Hope kissing her like the world is ending, and Amy kissing back.

Her hands subconsciously moving under the unzipped jacket, pushing it off of her shoulders. Letting it fall to the floor, and it makes something unfurl within the back of Amy’s mind at the sight of Hope’s tattoos.

Her fingers graze the black inked swirls, skimming across the hems of the shirt sleeves, fingers threading through beltloops, pulling her closer. Amy feels her head swim, and none of the thoughts are of panic.

This feels good. _Right_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be smut if ya’ll want that ig.
> 
> Let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> :)


	16. You give me chills when you look at me like that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m really bad at updating, and it’s driving me up a freaking brick wall. 
> 
> Motivation is whack right now…I’m useless I tell you. 
> 
> Sorry for errors.
> 
> Yes this is smut, I realize last chapter I forgot detail about Amy's book, but don't worry, just pretend that didn't happen... please?

> _"Doesn’t being scared let you know you’re on to something important?”_
> 
> _–Ted’s Student._

* * *

CHAPTER 16.)

Hope sets Amy’s book on her desk as Amy starts to climb up the ladder, crawling across and laying on her side, seemingly staring down until Hope turns away and looks up to her position on the top bunk.

“You climbed up there fast.”

“I’ve done it a few times,” Amy laughs softly, “Now it’s your turn.”

“Okay,” Hope says, “My turn.”

Amy nods, “Y-Yeah.”

“Give me a minute to figure this out,” Hope says, hands touching the top of the mattress before moving to grasp the first few rungs of the wooden ladder.

“It’s just a ladder,” Amy feels herself say, her pulse quickening upon Hope’s body moving slowly up each rung, Chuck Taylors seating firmly on each, until finally crawling over to straddle Amy’s waist.

Hope leans down, a grin spreading across Hope’s lips, nose leaning down to nudge against her own slowly, almost like she’s testing the waters, like she’s nervous of moving too fast for Amy’s taste.

“Hi,” She whispers, almost nervously, because frankly… How could she not be?

Amy feels herself lean up partially, managing to reconnect their lips back together, earning a satisfied noise from the back of Hope’s throat.

_And, damn, because Amy wants to hear that again._

_Even if that’s a super cliché thought._

“Hi yourself,” Hope whispers, Amy’s eyes flick open to find significantly darker hazel irises gleaming back at her own, almost like messages in code, Amy feels drawn to them.

It doesn’t scare her, the darkened eyes, the rasp in her voice.

She doesn’t worry about it; she doesn’t need to.

All she focuses on is how Hope makes her feel, how Hope’s tongue tastes, how safe this seems.

“How close are you to the ceiling?” Amy breathes out, earning a snort from above her.

“I could care less right now.”

“Just don’t hit your head,” Amy laughs softly.

“I’ve got at least a few feet,” Hope surmises, “We should be fine.”

And then Amy feels objectified to let something come out that makes Hope’s smile soften. She’s not sure how she manages to say it, or why it came out so smoothly, despite the strong sense of nerves fluttering around in her stomach.

Not nerves of doubt, not nerves of being scared of Hope.

Nerves of inexperience.

_“We will be fine.”_

And Hope nods, “Yeah,” Hope says, “We will.”

Amy reaches up, subconsciously combing away the hair from Hope’s eyes before her other pulls her closer to her own body.

She hears Hope’s muffled chuckle, but immediately it’s quieted by Amy’s hand roaming its way under the hem, riding over her stomach.

“What are you doing?” Hope intently whispers, it make’s Amy’s hand stop, momentarily trying to gage what to say.

Amy swallows, she knows her face is flushed, she’s silently freaking out, but it’s in a good way.

_Is that possible?_

“Something,” She whispers, and it sends Hope into a wide smile, almost like a secret message.

“Do you want me to help?” She inquires, “Or are you good?”

Again, Amy feels her heart start to race, “T-That would be n-nice.”

And Hope just simply leans down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth before rising up, moving in an uncoordinated motion, causing parts of her hair skewing across her face, and it makes her hand come up to brush them back with her palm.

And Amy feels right, like this is fine. Because it is.

Hope just has tattoos… It’s not like it was… Anything strange.

Amy can’t take her eyes off of any of them. She doubts she will, but she doesn’t want Hope to think she’s deranged or something.

Hope apparently had caught her eyes, and she simply smiles, resuming her original position, kissing Amy.

But Amy feels the urge to cup Hope’s face, and it in turn, brings Hope’s hand up, pulling one of them and placing the splayed fingers between the skin below her collarbone beside her shoulder.

It’s a small drawing of a yellow umbrella, and Amy doesn’t exactly know what it means, but it her fingers run across it making Hope inhale deeply.

“What’s that one mean?” She whispers, earning Hope’s smile.

“Ted’s yellow umbrella,” Hope replies, letting go of Amy’s hand, she leans back. Letting Amy’s hand fall away and come back to rest beside her. Revealing distinct hipbones and toned stomach, “From the finale of _How I Met Your Mother_.”

“Oh,” Amy chuckles softly, “I forgot about that.”

Amy starts to sit up on her arm, fumbling with her other for the bottom of her own shirt, before realizing it was buried inside of her jeans.

Hope clears her throat, reaching out, slowly, like she’s unsure of Amy’s reaction. Staring at Amy’s eyes, which were trained at Hope’s hands, nearing the button of her olive jeans, unsure of where the line was.

“Go ahead,” Amy nods, “I trust you.”

Hope’s hands move forward, and it feels intoxicatingly tempting, the subtle sound from the zipper and subconsciously lifting her hips to help Hope pull the denim further down her legs.

Amy doesn’t remember if she’s shaved today, but dreads the thought of Hope saying anything.

There was no way in hell she was predicting this.

Hope’s eyes dart up to meet Amy’s, watching Hope as she mentally captured each new inch of skin.

Watching how her face softens into one of contentment, almost like she was pleasantly surprised. Of what, Amy didn’t know.

But she hoped that Hope intended to say something, instead of gawking the whole time.

Her body shifts half-hazardly, slipping off Amy’s shoes and flinging them from the two of them. Amy’s eyes watching as Hope almost hurls backwards as she manages to get one leg free.

“You good?”

“Never been better,” Hope laughs, tossing the jeans off of the side, before swallowing.

They don’t care where they land, Amy’s practically naked from the waist down, and Hope is… Well…Amy can’t exactly look anywhere else but at her bra, and the ink that pokes from beneath the fabric of the right side of her ribs.

“Do you want me to…” Hope immediately looks concerned as she gestures to Amy’s underwear before flicking her eyes back up to Amy’s.

And Amy shakes her head, “You know we don’t have to do this.”

But Hope shakes her head, “No Amy, I really want this, but I just… I’ve really never been the expert at these sorts of things.”

“Oh,” Amy laughs softly, she didn’t mean for it to sound humorous, however Hope’s face turns to frown.

“Why do you find that funny?”

“I don’t,” Amy snaps, “I just find it cute that your so vulnerable.”

Hope’s eyes practically shine, and Amy can’t help but let her hand reach out, tugging Hope back up to her, connecting their lips back together.

“We don’t have to get to that until you feel ready to.”

“I’m ready Amy,” Hope confides, “I’ve been ready for a while.”

“Are you nervous?” Hope nods, and Amy suddenly understands that Hope’s feelings aren’t too far away from her own.

“Don’t be,” Amy whispers, leading her hand down, splaying it near her inner thigh, “It’s just me.”

And Hope’s eyes look up for a moment, flicking between lips and eyes, before trailing fingers up, touching the bottom hem of the right leg.

Amy lets go, leaning up into Hope’s touch and attempting to take her own shirt off without loosing the touch between them.

It provides complications though, Hope shifts slightly, helping to pull the fabric from Amy’s head before combing a few tendrils from her eyes and leaning in to kiss her.

She’s laughing at how stupid it seems, how messy they probably look, because this isn’t perfect.

“Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you look?”

_Okay, maybe Hope is slightly perfect…_

Amy bites her bottom lip before swallowing harshly, unsure of a response as Hope’s fingers pause against her ribcage.

“Don’t gawk,” Amy whispers, “I know your trying to be sweet.”

“Who said anything about gawking?” Hope smiles, “Molly compliments you all the time.”

“Don’t talk about her right now.”

Hope chuckles, trailing fingers across bottom elastic of Amy’s bra before leaning in to press a kiss to Amy’s shoulder.

“Alright then.”

Amy’s hands reach up, circling around Hope’s back before closing her eyes.

She doesn’t think, doesn’t care how anything else is apart from the way it feels to Hope shift slightly, letting the bands trail down her biceps after unhooking her bra. Watching Hope’s gaze flick back to Amy’s eyes, seeing something deep within them that almost feels like admiration.

It calls to something within Amy’s soul, because she slowly trails her hands over the tattoo near her ribs, making Hope’s breath hitch softly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Hope nods, “Just still getting used to that.”

“Getting used to what?”

“You touching me,” Hope swallows.

“Oh,” Amy breathes out, “Y-Yeah, me too.”

Because it’s true, Amy still is.

And it’s not a bad thing, it’s Hope after all.

She likes Amy a lot, and Amy…

Well… She likes her way more than she was willing to lead on, because before she was so scared of admitting her fear.

But now that she faced it? Fear was only a shout into the void of her mind.

The Celtic symbol on Hope’s ribs earns Amy’s attention, and it makes Hope’s eyes draw to Amy’s gaze.

“Serch Bythol,” Hope speaks, “For everlasting love.”

“Did you look that up on Google?” Amy laughs softly, and Hope’s brow furrows.

“I had to do a paper on Celts back in my history class in high school.”

“That’s…” Amy nods, “pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Hope nods, leaning forward, her hand comes to hold Amy’s fingers there for a moment, kissing her again, seemingly helping Amy lower herself back down onto the pillow, with Hope hovering over her closely.

“Pants,” Amy breathes out after Hope breaks the kiss.

“Damnit.”

And instantly Hope’s trying to shuffle back again, but Amy shakes her head quickly, holding onto Hope’s arm and stopping her movements.

“Hold on,” She whispers, “Here.”

Amy’s hand sneaks down, past Hope’s stomach, the other joining it at the leather belt, unthreading it from it’s place, and undoing the button. Trailing the zipper down and grazing the waistband of boyshorts. Looping her fingers in the beltloops beside her hips and tugging, and it makes Hope swallow. It isn’t successful, only managing to reach the middle of Hope’s thighs.

“Let me,” Hope says, “I still need to get my shoes.”

And Amy watches as Hope pulls away, struggling to unknot the laces before almost falling again after yanking her shoe off.

It’s clumsy, but Hope smiles, pushing the biker pants further down her thighs until kicking them off of the side of the bed, and hovering back over Amy, legs settling between hers, knee coming to press against Amy’s center.

“Have you done this before?” Amy asks, eyes widening in shock as her own hips rush forward suddenly, making Hope bite her lip.

“Not as much as you think.”

“When?” Amy inquires, making Hope chuckle.

“Whenever my mind feels like it wants to divulge into the fine details of you.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” Amy asks, leaning upward to catch Hope’s lips again, only to be responded with a deep sigh. Rocking hips forward firmly, almost testing the boundaries.

Amy knows how to move, but it’s still unexplainable how sharply the emotions hit her.

How real this all feels, how much she wants more.

And it provokes a sharp gasp to resonate from within the back of her throat, like the air being knocked out of her lungs, Amy feels this start to spiral.

Her hands run up the base of Hope’s back, trailing over her spine, and instantly it feels like electricity, Hope’s hands move over her ribcage, involuntarily arching her back to help unclasp the hooks for her bra and take it from between them.

Hope’s lips press against hers feverishly, moving hands to slip the waistband of Amy’s underwear down. Hips lifting to accommodate, hand gripping onto Hope’s shoulder, as the other races back down, letting fingers grow restless and travel beneath the back of Hope’s waistband. Hand pressing down, wanting to be closer.

It sends goosebumps across Hope’s skin, an unknown sense of urgency.

“Off,” Amy breathes out sharply, Hope’s lips trail down the column of her throat, and it makes Hope hum in confusion.

She rocks forward again in an attempt to seek friction, only to circle the other hand down to work on pushing the boyshorts further down, seemingly grasping skin, earning a subtle response from above her.

Because Hope understand, more skin, more connection.

Amy manages to push them down her thighs, seemingly reaching around to run fingers across sensitive flesh.

Hope lets out a shaky breath that turns into a gasp. Seemingly drawing Amy’s attention further to the details in how Hope’s throat moves, how her knee momentarily brushes forward, heightening Amy’s arousal.

Hope shifts away slowly from Amy’s grasp, lacing fingers through Amy’s waistband, throwing an intense gaze that chills Amy’s blood with how serious it feels, hips arching as underwear rolls down thighs and is messily discarded off of the side of the bed after Hope’s boyshorts.

“Oh my God,” Amy practically laughs as Hope resumes her previous position, peppering kisses against her sternum and hands coming to cup breasts.

“What?” Hope whisper, “Is this alright?”

“I just can’t believe your naked right now.”

Hope hums softly, pulling her left hand to intertwine Amy’s fingers, “Believe it.”

Hope’s thumb run across a peak, earning a soft gasp, arching into her, seemingly becoming electric, skin against skin. Almost wholesome and connected.

“Here’s an important question though,” Hope whispers.

“You know I want this.”

“I know,” Hope nods, “But do you know the difference between a vagina and a butthole.”

Amy’s eyes flick open to see Hope’s shit-eating grin, making her whole face blush darker, almost wanting to shrivel up at the joke.

“I told you that in confidence,” Amy mumbles, “Only because I trusted you.”

Hope hums softly, releasing fingers to trail past Amy’s stomach to run across outer lips, swirling her thumb, causing a soft moan to sound from Amy’s throat.

“I know,” Hope whispers, “Your just so tempting to tease.”

“W-Well…” Amy stutters, “Stop it and get on with it.”

Hope’s fingers pause over her entrance, walls craving anything.

“I could get used to this,” Hope whispers softly, leaning on an arm, with lips beside ear, pulling the lobe gently, seemingly pushing around slick walls to the base of her knuckle.

Amy gasps loudly, head lulling to the side before subconsciously pushing hands into hair, anchoring fingers against scalp, mouth parting in just relishing the feeling.

“Good?” Hope questions, earning a soft hum.

But Amy swears, her heart almost has palpitations when Hope starts to pull fingers out before snapping back quickly, curling, simply savoring the feelings overwhelming her senses, almost half-hazard, but purposeful. Thumb swirling around nerves, as Amy’s hands reach down to anchor blunt nails in a shoulder blade.

Hope doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even notice, just moves in a way to look back into dilated darkened eyes, capturing lips, silencing moans, hand cupping Amy’s cheek.

She feels like she’s drowning, imploding, and being reborn in one simple minute, like Hope’s driving her off of a cliff, and the only way down is to free fall.

She’s already fallen.

Eyes flicking open to meet Hope’s, she can feel it overwhelm her as Hope leans her forehead against hers, breath stilling, becoming labored, being uncontrollable. Amy doesn’t know how to officially feel at this point.

She feels so much in this moment.

The pleasure coursing through her veins, the feeling of Hope’s skin against hers, listening to Hope’s breath as it hitches every so often, watching, captivated by her.

Hope breathes life back into her bones, changing everything of her, and turning her into something of art.

And Amy has a million words swirling through her mind to categorize this moment, a million thoughts to remember.

But only one name comes to her lips as she’s falling off of the ledge.

One name that whispers things in her ear, one who wordlessly knows what she wants.

And she kisses her, until Amy is left breathless, eyes closed, feeling Hope’s lips dance across her skin.

And she feels like she’s floating, Hope’s fingers stilling as Amy’s chest heaves out, Hope’s eyes looking concerned, making sure Amy was fine.

_As if she wasn’t?_

“Are you okay?” Hope whispers, and Amy almost laughs at how stupid it sounds, because it’s so much of the opposite. Face and chest flushed, looking up with a smile.

“Never been better.”

Hope’s mouth forms a large smile, almost like she’s relieved at the news, however Amy has other plans. Catching Hope off guard, she manages to flip them around, with some help on Hope’s part.

“What’s the idea here?”

“You had your fun,” Amy whispers, straddling Hope’s waist and leaning her face dangerously close to Hope’s, “Now it’s mine.”

“Let me know if you need help knowing the difference.”

“I think I’ve got it,” Amy frowns, “Don’t ruin my moment.”

Hope’s face cranes up, meeting Amy’s lips, and she stays quiet for the most part.

_“I wouldn’t ever dream of it babe.”_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is crazy right now, and I’m trying to finish the rest of this story.
> 
> I’m sorry for being shit at updates guys, I think I might have lost my job that helped me contribute money for college, so I’m going through a quick depressive phase… I can’t let go easily.
> 
> There’s like a few chapters left anyway.
> 
> It’s been a while since I wrote any sort of smut, I’m not sure how I feel about this. I was trying to go for classy instead of raunchy… Yeah. 
> 
> “It was just like me on the streets in London being like ‘you’re a fucking doll.’”
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XgpcGgKbiA 
> 
> Friendship seems nice…tbh 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQcNfFJxIOs
> 
> (my dad showed me this ^ … just …yeah.)
> 
> please tell me what you guys think. I really can use people's inspiring words rn. <3


	17. Wake you up in the middle of the night to say, “I will never walk away again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slight hiatus, I was procrastinating this because I really didn’t feel like writing then.
> 
> However, while on Youtube, I watched some Booksmart edits and I blame this (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qz1N9XVX2M8) for yelling at me to feel the vibe of the song and just write… So I did, and this is why we have chapter 17. 
> 
> Also, I really think that it’s a fucking amazing edit. 
> 
> We need more of those. 
> 
> I’ve been listening to Maroon 5’s “Hands All Over” album for about a week now, and in my actual opinion, I believe that it’s one of the best nostalgic trips for me back to 2010. 
> 
> But rn, for the later scene, I was listening to “Never Gonna Leave This Bed,” because… reasons. Yes.
> 
> I may or may not have lied to all of you about there being a few chapters left… I genuinely do not want this fic to really end oddly. So I won’t really have a proper planned end point, just a general idea, and making sure I hit all of the main goals I wrote this fic for.
> 
> …anyone want to watch The Last Man Standing with me? I’m laughing so hard at Kaitlyn and seriously everything about it…. Not sure… I think I have a problem with liking straight people… She made my heart so confused…. 
> 
> I mean how am I supposed to feel? Like am I just supposed to ignore the fact that I think she’s pretty and totally made out with Diana? (yes… yes I am… I know… it was completely fictional…. Goddammit. Being gay is hard man.)
> 
> But Beanie? She is fucking awesome. I listened to her chatting with Jameela Jamil the other day, and I swear I felt so much better after that hour and a half. 
> 
> Alright… Enough of my idiocy. I’m alive and planning on getting back to this since I’m completely sunburnt and debating on whether or not to buzz my hair off because I want to be an absolute r e b e l.
> 
> (sorry for errors, tried my best.)

> _“Books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

CHAPTER 17.)

**_6:58 pm_ **

****

Molly sits in her car, gripping the steering wheel as the sun begins to set below the horizon. The clock on her dash provides reason to believe that she was on time. Parked with the nose of her vehicle in the direction of the church’s entrance, she waits to spot the Antsler’s.

She grabs her phone from the hands free holder stuck on the windshield, pulling up her designated playlist.

Something to calm her nerves, she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t slightly nervous about this.

Molly never had been one to try to cover for Amy’s parents.

Amy never had anyone like Hope before to really need that from her, but considering their current situation, Molly would do almost anything to prove her loyalty and caring friendship for Amy.

Of course she didn’t exactly love the idea of Hope taking Amy away and keeping her locked down, not that Molly wanted to be with Amy in any way like Hope, she strictly had no romantic feelings in that sense, but she did care for Amy more than any other human being.

She just wants the best for Amy, and if Hope made her happy, then Molly was more than willing to support any relationship, as long as Hope treated her right.

Because Molly gets it, it’s not her place to say what is and isn’t a good relationship for Amy, it’s Amy’s decision.

But if Molly had to admit it, Hope was almost a perfect match, and Molly wanted Amy to start going out of her way to make her own decisions for her own self. As much as Molly loved Amy’s close blind support, they were two different people with different needs.

Amy just frankly needed to become a butterfly and fly the fuck away, because, as much as she was so special to Molly’s life, she just wanted her to become her own spirit.

And upon their fight from Nick’s back in 2019, she had been trying to work on letting Amy take leads to decisions for the both of them.

Control was never exactly easy, but Molly hoped Amy noticed that she was trying to patch up her mistake of being pushy and overbearing and protective of their friendship.

A few minutes after seven Molly finds people starting to trickle out of the entrance, spotting Charmaine and Doug quickly as the talk to a few other stragglers.

Molly pauses the current song and pulls up Amy’s chat before thumbing two messages and killing the ignition of the car and quickly getting out.

_‘I just found your parents.’_

_‘You owe me big time for this.’_

“Hi Molly!” Charmaine says, upon Molly’s approach, “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah,” Doug chimes, “Where is Amy?”

Molly bites the inside of her cheek before chuckling nervously, “Well, Amy sent me to go find you guys because she actually needs you guys to go to the store.”

Charmaine frowns, “I just went to the store, what could possibly be the matter?”

“Is she still at home?”

Molly nods quickly, “Yeah, Amy is still at your house, but she wanted me to come out and tell you that your out of almond milk.”

Doug narrows his eyes, before inhaling deeply, “Now young lady,” and it makes Molly brace herself for the momentary pause, nervous of Doug seeing through her absolute lie, “We cannot have that.”

“No we cannot,” Molly confirms, “I can drive you guys to the store, I’m sure we can get some.”

Charmaine waves a hand, “Nonsense, I’m positive we can just pick some up at the gas station near our house sweetheart.”

“Come on,” Doug nods, “We’ll drive you.”

“Well actually,” Molly clears her throat, “ _Whole Foods_ is having a sale on milk.”

“Really?” Charmaine says, and it makes Molly nod firmly.

“Sure is,” She lies, “Twenty eight cents cheaper.”

Charmaine turns to her husband before nodding in agreement, “Well then, we might as well go take advantage of that.”

“What about Amy?” Doug chimes, making Molly wave her hand.

“Amy’ll be fine, I’ll text her.”

“What about our car honey?” Charmaine speculates, “We can just go and get it and you can just head back home.”

Molly purses her lips, trying not to act suspicious, because surely, that was one of the last places she would want to be right now.

She loves her friend, but seriously…. There are boundaries.

“I can drive you two,” Molly nods, “Jump in.”

Charmaine and Doug exchange a glance before following Molly to the parked car and pulling open corresponding doors.

_‘I lied about being out of almond milk. Pour any down the drain and rid anything from the fridge.’_

_‘You owe me double; you know I’m lactose intolerant.’_

* * *

**_7:13 pm_ **

“Molly, sweetheart,” Charmaine says, “You just missed the turn.”

“No I didn’t,” Molly shoots, “I know where I’m going.”

“But at this rate, you’re taking us to the one across town.”

“That’s where the sale is at Doug,” Molly says, “It’s a store exclusive.”

Doug purses his lips before frowning, “Are you sure about this?”

“I mean do we really need milk that badly?” Charmaine speaks up, “I don’t think it’s serious.”

Molly bites the inside of her cheek, surely Doug and Charmaine cannot know why Molly can’t take them home, Molly didn’t want to think about that really, “Amy told me that she really needed almond milk, said something about her diet.”

“She wasn’t kidding when she said you two were dieting?” Doug raises a brow.

_‘If you only knew Doug.’_

“Yeppers!”

“Amy really doesn’t need it; doesn’t she know that she looks great the way she is?” Charmaine shakes her head, “She truly takes after her father in that aspect.”

“Sweetheart, I’m sitting right here.”

“I know,” Charmaine says, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“It doesn’t?” Doug raises a brow, “Surely doesn’t seem very nice.”

“You know I love you,” Charmaine says, “You just tend to feel things that are extremely irrational, and apparently our wonderful daughter does the same thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Doug says after a moment, “Amy is really wonderful, isn’t she?”

Charmaine nods, “She is.”

“What about you Molly?” Doug asks, looking into the rear view mirror to catch her eyes.

Molly swallows _. ‘Just got to handle this for a little while until Amy’s good.’_

“She is quite super.”

* * *

**_7:58 pm_ **

****

Molly’s phone lights up as she pulls into the parking lot. Doug and Charmaine are restless in the backseat as Molly shifts the car into park and looks down at her phone for a moment.

_‘hey, I just got your text.’_

_‘I definitely owe you.’_

“I think their closed Molly,” Doug says, looking to the empty parking lot, before glancing into the rear view mirror and looking over to his wife.

“Let’s just go home,” Charmaine says, “I really just want to go to bed.”

Molly thumbs out a message before sighing, “Right, I’ll drop you back at the church so you can get your car.”

Doug sighs in relief, “Thank you.”

Though, Molly feels as if a weight has been lifted upon knowing that she was getting away with this bullshit, and it was incredible bullshit.

_‘We’re on our way back, make sure you two have clothes.’_

Amy’s response takes a minute, _‘don’t worry, we will molls.’_

* * *

**8:32 pm**

Molly makes it home before Doug and Charmaine. Easily getting in, to Hope’s displeasure, and almost running over the motorcycle in the driveway due to the lighting situation, however, Amy has changed clothes, dressed in Hope’s Columbia hoodie and boxer shorts.

“Hey,” Molly say, Hope is sitting at the breakfast bar with a can of ginger ale, drinking it out of a bendy straw. Her shirt is wrinkled, and her biker pants have been replaced with a loose pair of _The Nightmare Before Christmas_ lounge pants. Evidently ending a few inches before Hope’s ankles, but hanging loosely on her waist.

“How far away are they?” Amy asks, and Molly shuts the door behind herself, moving into the living room to plop down on the couch.

“I’m not sure,” Molly sighs, “But should Hope be here?”

“I’m staying,” Hope points out, “You’ve got the bottom bunk, I don’t have say what you do on your bunk, but what happens on the top, stays on the top.”

Amy holds up a finger, “But no sex on the top bunk.”

“At least none that Molly knows of,” Hope grins.

Molly’s face pales, before she shakes her head, “I can just stay at Annabelle’s if you two just want to bone all night.”

Hope’s brow furrows, almost like she’s considering this, but Amy shakes her head quickly, dismissing all accusations and ability for that to take place.

There was no way Amy was going to introduce Hope to her parents without Molly, she needs some support.

They’re likely to like Hope more if they know that Molly approves… Well… She isn’t completely for Hope, but she wants Amy to be happy.

“No way,” Amy says, “If you’re my friend right now, you won’t make me fucking do this alone.”

The sound of a car door slam makes Hope look up, “Did you remember to dump out the milk?”

“I already did that,” Hope motions to the fridge, “Right babe?”

“Right,” Amy nods, “Thank you.”

Molly’s face practically contorts into one of enthusiasm, “Oh my God, pet names?”

“Don’t get used to it,” Hope frowns, “She isn’t your girlfriend Davidson.”

“I never committed to…” Amy’s voice trails off as she looks over to Hope for a moment before biting her lip, “Okay, yes Molly.”

“Your actually official?”

“What?” Hope says, sarcasm dripping from her voice, “Do you want an invitation for a celebration over our unionization?”

“Hope,” Amy scowls, “Be nice.”

“You really are whipped Hope!” Molly shouts, clasping her hands together, and pointing her fingertips at her, standing on the couch and grinning, “Hufflepuff.”

Amy’s face contorts in horror, before pinching the bridge of her nose, “Oh jeez.”

Hope’s chair scrapes across tile, and her frame saunters over to Molly, straw at the corner of her lips as her brows crease.

She spits the tip of the straw back into the can, and it makes it swirl before laying limp, she opens her mouth to speak before Doug’s shoes are toed off and footsteps pause in the entryway of the kitchen.

“I’m not a Hufflepuff, Davidson,” Hope mutters under her breath, loud enough for Molly to hear, tone sending a chill through her spine, “I’m a Slytherin, and I break for no fucking one.”

“Amy!” Doug cries, poking his head around the corner, “We’re home.”

“Molly?” Charmaine says, behind him, “And who is this here?”

Hope turns to face Charmaine with a large artificial smile, extending her arm to shake, “I’m Hope Conrad.”

“And how do you know Amy?” Doug asks.

“Amy?” Hope smiles, looking over to Amy on the couch before turning back to Doug, “She’s my girlfriend.”

“Oh,” Charmaine says, “How wonderful.”

Hope’s face breaks out into a genuine smile, “It truly is Mrs. Antsler.”

Charmaine holds a hand over her chest, “Please, call me Charmaine, and this is my husband Doug.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Hope nods, “I actually flew in from New York to come and visit.”

“That’s exciting,” Doug smiles, “Molly?”

Molly looks up, “What’s up Dougcycles?”

“Did you know about Hope arriving?” Doug raises a brow before gesturing to Hope’s frame.

Molly quickly shakes her head, evidently trying to fog all connections with what potentially happened.

“I had no idea about Hope, last that I knew Amy had a crush on her.”

“Molly,” Hope frowns, turning towards Amy for a moment before wrapping an arm around Amy’s shoulder, “Amy told you more than that.”

“Okay,” Molly fusses, “Yes Doug, I knew they were together, but I swear I had no knowledge of Hope coming from New York.”

“The last I knew,” Amy says, leaning into Hope’s side, “Was that Hope was seeing her dad.”

“What happened with that?” Doug raises a brow, and it makes Hope laugh softly.

“My dad gave me a plane ticket to come see Amy actually, it was really crazy.”

“I’ll say,” Molly mutters under her breath, loud enough for the two other girls to hear.

“I think I’ll be heading off to bed,” Amy says, pulling out of Hope’s contact and hugging her parents before wandering up the stairs.

“Are you staying here tonight?” Charmaine asks Hope, and it makes Hope turn to Molly before nodding.

“If it would be okay with you Charmaine, it would be amazing.”

“Right,” Charmaine nods, “I’m sure we can hook something up with the couch in the basement since Molly usually sleeps on the bottom bunk of Amy’s bed.”

“Sounds great,” Hope smiles softly, “I’m going to go tell Amy goodnight then, jetlag is kicking in.”

“I’ve gotta go change clothes too,” Molly finishes, before turning and scrambling up the stairs to fetch clothes from an overnight bag in Amy’s room.

Hope beats Molly to the room though, Amy’s arm is twisted underneath her face as she lays on her side. Making no movement as Hope flicks the lamp back on and is quickly followed by Molly on her heel, ducking down to a forest green suitcase.

Hope’s bare feet climbs the first few rungs of the ladder as Molly rushes out of the room, closing the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone.

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Amy hums, “Are you sleeping here?”

Hope chuckles softly, “Your mom wants me to sleep outside of your room, but yes, I am sleeping here.”

“Oh,” Amy yawns, shuffling to sit upright, leaving hair tussled and messy as she shifts to near Hope’s figure near the edge of the bunk, “The pillow still smells like you.”

“Really now?” Hope laughs softly, earning an eager nod from Amy, before she cranes her face up, like an invisible signal for a kiss, and it makes Hope laugh softly, “What are you trying to tell me?”

“What?” Amy pouts.

“What are you doing?” Hope grins, clearly amused.

“I’m trying to get you to kiss me.”

Hope raises a brow, “You don’t need to do anything extraordinary to get me to kiss you Amy, it’s something I’ll always voluntarily do.”

Amy pouts, “Glad to know it seems this is charity work for you.”

“You are no charity,” Hope clarifies, ducking her face down to press a kiss on Amy’s lips.

And it feels like the first time, like Hope’s heart wants to implode again, because it feels so right doing this.

Being here, with Amy Antsler in her childhood bedroom.

And she hopes this feeling will never end because Amy’s lips could possibly be the taste of heaven.

It’s Molly’s voice however, that makes them tear apart, almost making Hope fall backwards on her ass, like a deer in headlights.

She clears her throat, and Hope can instantly see Amy’s completely flushed face. Though she doesn’t look completely embarrassed, just slightly upset. _Two can play at that game._

“Goodnight then,” Amy whispers, and it makes Hope smile as Molly plops down underneath the blankets of the bottom bunk, shifting onto her side, as Hope climbs down and shuts off the light, closing the door behind her.

She walks down the stairs to find Charmaine telling her about the pullout couch downstairs that Doug had apparently set up for her, and it is instantly relieving to know she wouldn’t need to wake up with a back full of knots after a nine hour nap.

Because that’s all sleep really was, a giant nap.

Hope liked naps.

(Mostly because napping included Amy in some way.)

* * *

Amy waits for the light beneath the door to shut off, laying on her side, struggling to keep her eyes open through the darkness of the room. Molly is snoring below her, and she’s debating on thrashing around to make her stop, not that it would do much, but perhaps the noise of her movements might disturb the God awful sound.

She doesn’t know how long it takes, but she knows her father is the last to go to bed, he flips off the light in the hallway, and Amy waits for what seems like twenty more minutes before sitting up quietly.

There’s a shuffling noise, and Amy tries to dampen it as much as she can, taking hold of her pillow, and slowly moving to straddle the top rung of the ladder before moving down, carefully avoiding all potential hiccups.

But Amy knows Molly must be awake because the snoring stops, halfway down the ladder, and she involuntarily holds her breath, waiting for it to pass. It eventually does, and Amy feels the shaggy carpet beneath her bare feet.

She turns to start toward the door, sidestepping a creaky floorboard, before reaching out to the knob, pillow clutched beneath left arm.

“Where are you going?”

It’s overly serious, and it makes Amy partially jump from her skin, startled by Molly’s voice as it whispers across the room.

“For some fresh air,” Amy lies. She didn’t want to go into detail about her whereabouts at that point. It’s after 1am and she just really doesn’t want to sleep in that bed.

She mentally blames it on it being a bad curse for her back, despite never having any issue with it before, but Amy knows deep down, she just blatantly doesn’t want to sleep without Hope around.

It’s not like they have ever agreed to an arrangement like this in the past, but Amy genuinely cannot rest currently until she’s in the same room as her.

“Okay,” Molly mumbles, not caring about Amy’s situation, instead, shifting onto her side towards the wall, and falling back into a shallow sleep.

It’s like a weight has been lifted from her chest, she lets out a long breath, and slowly twists the knob, pulling the door ajar and slipping from it, closing it softly behind her.

She doesn’t make much noise, taking each step slowly, then soon after finding the basement stairs and traveling down to the small man cave for her father.

Amy almost stubs her toe on the pullout couch, if it wasn’t for her knee that quickly finds the soft mattress and sheet. Amy doesn’t need light to know that Hope is asleep, lying on her front, limbs sprawled out in each direction, with a hand clutching underneath a pillow.

A very bad position to sleep in, however, it makes Amy smile softly when she envisions it.

She doesn’t know where Hope lays, so she kneels down, reaching out to graze fingertips along a spine, and it in turn causes the mattress to completely jerk.

“Amy?” Hope’s sleep laced voice utters, and she hums softly in response, “What are you doing? I thought you were in bed.”

Amy doesn’t answer, instead, Hope shuffles onto her back wordlessly, and Amy finds herself scooting closer, pushing her pillow towards the top of the makeshift bed, and yawning softly.

“I wanted to be here.”

“Oh,” Hope mumbles softly, “Alright then.”

Amy subconsciously slips onto her side away from Hope, feeling Hope move closer, arms curling around stomach, and nose against neck, inhaling deeply before moving the blanket over the both of them.

“Hey,” Amy whispers, half awake, feeling Hope’s lips as the mumble an acknowledgement against her, before she smiles softly to herself, “You know, your beautiful too.”

And Amy swears, everything feels so right, feels perfect.

Because even if either of them were flawed in their own rights, nothing was more appealing and eye catching then the both of them together, leg thrown over thigh, and completely together, despite any prior idiocy.

Perhaps love was inevitable after all, Amy wasn’t ever sure, however, she was sure that if given the opportunity for this, she would take it. A thousand times. She understands Hazel’s feelings about Gus.

Because Hope, to Amy, was perfect.

And she hoped, that this would never end, because it would tear her apart if she saw Hope leave. If she left. If anything happened to disturb the two of them.

Because in this moment, in an old fold out couch that smelled strongly of vanilla and faintly of chicken wings, Amy swears.

_Everything feels complete._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeee.... Gotta blast.
> 
> your welcome for the feeling trip. 
> 
> (what i wouldn't do to have this as an actual living and breathing relationship... i need a xannax i stg.)
> 
> Love you guys.
> 
> it gets better than eating Apple Jacks to That 70's Show at 3am... trust me... if that isn't a mood though. :)


	18. Why was everyone leaving? Do we say what we mean?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in these collages that are attached, and extremely shitty… (But bish, we won’t talk about that.)
> 
> Regarding Amy’s jacket in the picture and shoes. I actually have those exact items, and when I was cleaning my closet before starting this fic, kept telling myself that I could just see Kaitlyn Dever wearing that in terms to Booksmart, and I wasn’t sure why. 
> 
> Maybe I’m mental?
> 
> (It isn’t my actual jacket though, I found that image off of eBay, as well as the shoes. However, I do wear my Chucks practically everywhere, both of my items were secondhand, my dad finding that jacket and giving it to me for my fifteenth birthday.)
> 
> Technically was my first leather jacket, I was trying to find an image of my own exact black leather jacket as well, but I managed to settle for that (I was too lazy to take photos) 
> 
> It seemed masculine and completely like Hope’s attitude… Sort of.  
> Mine has shoulder pads, so perhaps try to incorporate that? I don’t know.
> 
> (My crush had these grey pride Chuck Taylors that just had a rainbow stripe across the side, and I had tried to find a picture of that exact shoe, but all of them seem completely different, extremely flamboyantly gay.)
> 
> [I’m not personally that way, unless I’m around the right people and have had a few cans of hard coffee or caffeinated soda… Don’t tell my dad, I’m not legal… Mom made me do it… Okay, it was me… And it was my birthday... But still.]
> 
> (NOT that that’s a bad thing, just not the thing that this story is trying to intend, neither of these characters are extremely like ‘oh hi, by the way, did I tell you, I’m extremely gay?’)
> 
> Now, that’s to be said, that if that time came, yes they could possibly turn into that, but in general, Amy and Hope are normally extremely reserved and calm about everything, and sexuality for them is just a given and never an issue, (It can be, but is currently not)
> 
> (Tell me your thoughts on the jacket, it’s from 1982 according to the inside tag. Does it potentially give you Amy vibes?)
> 
> (I ran out of ideas for shirts for Amy, it was either making a political statement with a feminist shirt, or a Christmas themed shirt that said, ‘where are all my ho ho ho’s at?’ because of the time frame that they’re in.
> 
> (Potential trigger for Doug being extremely difficult about Hope? I wouldn’t classify as it being homophobia, because it has nothing to do with sexuality, but sorry if it offends you.)
> 
> Made up for lack of updates by an extra long 5,000 word chapter, your welcome in advance.
> 
> My bad about errors, hope you enjoy.
> 
> “The best four letter word in the world is Hope.”
> 
> ^ I’m sorry, it has me dead, idgaf if that’s a Stephenie Meyer's quote.
> 
> Also I thoroughly enjoy that photo of Beanie and Kaitlyn, it makes me smile… I want friends like that.

> * * *

> _“Whether a gesture’s charming or alarming depends on how it’s received.”_ _— Ted Mosby_

* * *

CHAPTER 18.)

Molly is startled awake by the sound of a frying pan being dropped on linoleum flooring below her. It jars her to sit upright, avoiding the metal above her head, and swinging her legs over the side of the mattress.

She slips on a pair of socks and pads down the stairs, making her way into the kitchen to find Charmaine and Doug moving around the kitchen together, Charmaine tending to something on the stove, as Doug mixes something. –- Something that Molly guesses is pancake batter. – They spot Molly as soon as she nears closer to them, rubbing her eyes, as a yawn overtakes her features.

“Good morning,” Doug clarifies, “Would you like some of our special Antsler gourmet coffee?”

“Doug,” Charmaine sighs from over her shoulder, “It’s just _Folgers_ honey.”

“Don’t spoil the luxury of it,” Doug pouts, turning to Molly with a curious eye, “Would you like a cup though?”

“Yes,” Molly says, “Gladly will accept some.”

“Good,” Doug nods, moving to the carafe beside Charmaine before pulling a mug from an above cabinet.

“Have either of you seen Hope or Amy?” Molly asks, after Doug slides the mug over the breakfast bar towards the girl.

“I thought Amy slept in her room last night,” Charmaine turns to Doug before pursing her lips, “I believe Hope is still downstairs, you can go check.”

“You might want to take ammunition with you though,” Doug points out, filling a Wonder Woman mug before handing it over to Molly with a wide grin.

“Got it,” Molly nods, leaving her partially full mug on the bar while caring the other in her right hand, cautiously taking the stairs.

It’s silent, the hopper windows streaming sunlight through powder blue curtains. Molly’s able to see the distinct outline of Molly knows is both Amy and Hope. Neither of them awake, Molly takes a moment to observe the sight. Hope’s on her right side, with Amy curled against her back, hands clutching the back of Hope’s shirt, a foot twisting behind and intertwining itself with another leg, both facing away from Molly.

Molly sets the mug down carefully on a nearby coffee table, finding her phone from one of her pockets in her sweatpants, and quickly pulling up her camera app.

She takes a picture, turning off the flash, and raising her phone up to catch a better angle. She ends up having to stand on a recliner, navigating it’s swivel and rocking feature to take another.

Amy shifts, momentarily making Molly freeze, but Hope mumbles something incoherent, making Amy shift onto her other side.

Molly wanted to leave both of them alone, terribly. There was no way in Hell that they needed to release the kraken that was Amy Antsler being awoken before 9am on a non-important day.

However, questions would be asked if they didn’t move from this predicament, and she doubts either of them wants Amy’s parents to witness Hope’s hands resting over Amy’s exposed skin.

Molly doesn’t want to witness it much either, there are boundaries.

“Ames,” Molly whispers, moving to Amy’s side of the couch and jostling her shoulder softly. It earns a dismayed groan.

“Let me sleep for another five minutes,” Amy mumbles, shifting away from Molly’s touch and further into Hope, causing eyes to flick open quickly, and narrow at Molly before shifting a hand up to continue Molly’s original task.

“It’s time to wake up,” Hope whispers, “Time to cease the day like you once said.”

“I’m an idiot,” Amy mutters, “No one needs to cease a day, its intangible.”

“There’s coffee involved,” Hope looks to the static mug.

“In that case,” Amy stretches her legs and rolls onto her back, jumping at the sight of Molly, and quickly laughing in disbelief, “Molls.”

“I brought you coffee,” Molly gestures to the mug, and quickly hands it to Amy, who sits up eagerly and scoots further up the bed, smoothing a palm over her forehead to disregard any hair obscuring her eyes, and taking hold of the mug before gingerly taking a long sip.

“Better?” Hope yawns, following Amy’s similar position before rubbing her eyes.

Amy nods enthusiastically, “Alright, now I’m ready.”

“You bring any for me?” Hope raises a brow, and Amy’s eyes dart up to meet Molly’s.

“Sorry,” She unapologetically shoots, “Completely forgot.”

“No you didn’t,” Hope deadpans.

“Hope,” Amy tears the mug from her lips, “You can just have the rest of mine.”

Hope’s eyes light up, smiling wide as she takes the mug into her hands, quickly taking a long sip, before ultimately realizing something.

“There’s none left.”

“There isn’t?” Amy raises an amused brow, earning a deflated nod.

“Maybe if you get up Doug will let you have some,” Molly points out.

“Getting up is for losers,” Hope says, “I belong in bed.”

“Right,” Amy says, “That’s one thing to put on a job application.”

“There’s a feather in your cap,” Molly nods, “Belonging in bed.”

Hope frowns, “I’m going to go get coffee.”

“Fetch me some too,” Amy points out, earning a glare, before Amy glances back to Molly, “She’ll get me some.”

“You sure?” Molly laughs softly.

“Positive.”

Molly clears her throat and takes a seat beside Amy, “You know she’s really something.”

Amy smiles to herself, because now? She’s willing to accept the fact that Molly was right. Amy wasn’t going to ignore the fact that Hope was indeed something.

“Yeah,” Amy smiles softly.

“So when are you guys going to get married, huh?”

Amy’s eyes widen in shock because this was _so_ not the time, “Molly!”

“What?” Molly laughs softly, “I’m serious.”

“ _No_ ,” Amy fusses, “You _can’t_ be serious.”

“Come on,” Molly nudges, “She completely adores you.”

“So?” Amy laughs softly, “I feel the same way, but that doesn’t mean I’m jumping up to do something that drastic Molls.”

“Really?” Molly frowns, “You just did that yesterday, you went all the way. How much farther can you go before your technically allowed to call this exclusive.”

“I don’t want her seeing anyone else,” Amy raises a brow, “We’re together. Christ, I just admitted that yesterday Moll.’

“Which is good,” Molly confirms, “But would you?”

“What?”

“Get married?” Molly clarifies.

“I don’t believe you need to get married, it’s not always a must,” Amy sighs, “You know this.”

“Fuck that ideology Ames,” Molly says, “You know you two both love each other, it’s 2021 after all.”

“What about divorce?” Amy dismisses, “I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Ames,” Molly shakes her head, placing a reassuring hand on her knee, “All I’m saying is, what if she wants that?”

“Then she does Moll,” Amy shrugs, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Well,” Molly sighs, “Would you do it then?”

“It depends on timing,” Amy shrugs, “If she asked me tomorrow, I’d tell her that she was crazy.”

“I mean,” Molly says, “That’s fair, but _if_ you two belong together, then you’ve got all the time in the world.”

“You’re not trying to pull that soulmate card again, are you?” Amy frowns.

“They exist Amy,” Molly groans, “Our friendship is the perfect example.”

“That takes time to build that,” Amy says, “I didn’t completely trust you from the start.”

“Well that’s disconcerting,” Molly sighs.

“It’s not like that,” Amy says, “Would you trust someone you just met?”

“You did,” Molly says, “With Hope.”

“I don-“

“Amy,” Molly cuts her off, “You told me as soon as you got back to your dorm.”

“I did that because you were my best friend.”

“You knew something Amy,” Molly clarifies, “You thought Hope was different.”

“And she is Molly,” Amy nods, “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to jump on the crazy train.”

“Seriously Amy,” Molly raises a hand to pause further discretion, “The physical chemistry you two share is palatable, you two have just stuck together.”

“Because we feel something.”

“Look,” Molly says, “All I’m saying is, you’re not getting any younger here, you need to figure out what you really want out of this relationship.”

“I just want to be happy,” Amy rubs her eyes, “Is that bad?”

“And Hope makes you happy, right?” Molly asks, earning a sharp nod from Amy, “Then stick it out, and see where this goes. You shouldn’t feel the need to limit your own happiness Amy, be with Hope. You know she’s safe.”

“You really think I should?”

“I wouldn’t be telling you if I didn’t,” Molly furrows a brow, “You should do what you think feels right though. It’s your life, and your allowed to make decisions.”

Amy’s mouth opens to say something, however hearing the stairs creak nearby sends her to silence, watching as Hope’s lanky frame finds its way to the landing. A mug of coffee in her hands, and a soft smile brushing her lips.

“Were you two talking about me?”

“Um,” Molly swallows, “if I say no, would you believe us?”

“Good question,” Hope grins, “I wouldn’t.”

“Did you get any for me?” Amy pouts, and Hope laughs softly.

“Forgot.”

“You just were up there three minutes,” Molly musses, “You’ve got the attention span of a fish.”

“Molly,” Amy groans, “You know that’s not true.”

“Yeah,” Hope shrugs, “If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m going to go get some coffee then,” Amy clarifies, “You two play nice.”

“I’ve got to call my mom anyway,” Molly says, following closely behind Amy up the stairs, beginning to hear her parents within earshot.

* * *

“I’m not sure how I feel about Hope, that’s all.”

“Honey,” Amy hears Charmaine say, “Hope is a wonderful girl.”

Molly’s arm tugs Amy away from moving further into earshot, immediately crushing the monumental high of her feelings, and completely dropping her to a cement floor.

“She’s got so many tattoos,” Doug continues, “Do you really think that’s the way we raised our daughter to be?”

“We both know that life never goes the way we plan,” Charmaine says, “Amy isn’t bothered by how Hope is, so we shouldn’t judge her either.”

“Charmaine,” Doug says, “You don’t think Hope is somehow a bad influence on her?”

“It shouldn’t matter what we think Doug,” Charmaine snaps, “It’s how Amy feels about her that makes this either a good or bad thing.”

“She seems like she could hurt Amy,” Doug continues, “And I love our daughter, and I don’t want her to go through our challenges.”

Charmaine huffs softly, “Hope treats her extremely well honey, it doesn’t look like she’s going anywhere soon.”

“Just my luck then,” Doug sighs, “I was thinking Molly and her were together.”

“What are you doing?” Molly half whispers as Amy moves back down the stairs, back towards Hope.

She doesn’t say anything, she genuinely doesn’t want to. Hope is staring at her phone, legs crossed on the bed still, mug between her lips, as her thumb swipes across the screen.

“Amy.”

Molly clambers back down, grabbing hold of her shoulder, directing Hope’s eyes to her face… _God not now._

Hope’s eyes instantly widen and she’s instantly shuffling across the mattress, pushing herself to stand upright.

“Hey,” It’s a soft murmur, Molly’s hand drops instantly, as Hope’s comes up to brush hair from her eyes before pulling her in for a hug, “It’s alright.”

And Amy shoves her nose into the collar of Hope’s shirt, inhaling the strong smell of lavender fabric softener, nodding blindly into the embrace, _alright_.

Molly swallows, before embracing Amy too, sandwiching her between them, “Cheer up,” She ruffles the top of her head, earning a frown from Hope, almost seeming possessive like a _‘I’ve got this, you can back off,’_ look.

 _‘Alright, well… I was her best friend first,’_ Molly glares, _‘So I’m not leaving.’_

“Hey,” Hope pulls away after a moment, ignoring Molly’s glare, keeping her arm’s length, not as separation, but as a reassurance, “What’s the matter baby?”

Amy inhales sharply, “It’s complicated.”

Molly slinks away, “I’ll give you two some privacy, I need to call my mom.”

“Oh yeah,” Amy shoots deflated, “Go ahead.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve got this,” Hope interjects, “You can go take care of what you need to.”

Molly scrambles away hesitantly, climbing the stairs and spying Doug at the breakfast bar, Charmaine not near him.

“Where’s Char-Char?”

“She’s in the other room sewing,” Doug looks up before looking back down to his crossword.

Molly takes the seat beside him, wordlessly she laces her fingers together and thinks for a moment.

“Amy heard you.”

Doug’s eyes look up, unsure to as what the comment was directed at, but all the more curious, “What do you mean?”

“When you were talking about Hope,” Molly says, “You can’t say that about people.”

“I know,” Doug sighs, “it’s hard.”

“What’s hard?” Molly interjects, “Seeing Amy with Hope?”

“No!” Doug exclaims, waving his red pen quickly, “It’s just complicated.”

Molly smiles for a moment, scooting her chair closer, “I was valedictorian of our high school, I’m sure I can understand.”

Doug chuckles, setting his pen down before swiveling his chair to directly catch Molly’s eye, “Alright, well, you see, when Amy was born, I had this picture in my head about what her future would look like. A house, husband, perhaps a dog? And after she came out a few years ago, the picture changed to accommodate this, and never for a moment did I ever imagine Amy being with someone the opposite of how we viewed good people. Like people we went to church with, despite it being a conflicting challenge for her life. I’m not saying that she should be married to our pastor’s daughter, and I’m not saying Hope is bad either. It’s just that she’s unfamiliar, and I’m worried that because she’s unfamiliar, Amy will wind up getting hurt. And I’m not sure I can handle knowing that I can’t fix that. Because Amy is my only real daughter, so I’ve only got one real shot at being a good parent, and in all honesty, all that I want is for her is to just be happy.”

“Do you approve of Hope?” Molly asks.

Doug smiles softly, “I approve of anyone that treats Amy like she deserves and makes her happy,” Doug sighs and swallows, “It was just a shocker seeing her.”

“Yeah,” Molly nods, “But Hope means a lot to her.”

“And I get that now,” Doug says, “It’s a different friendship compared to the two of you, and I think for some reason I’m still struggling to comprehend the fact that she isn’t in diapers anymore.”

“We grow up so fast,” Molly nods, “It feels like yesterday we were in our freshman year of high school.”

“I wouldn’t go back in time to relive that experience,” Doug flatly, “I’ve learned to choose not to have any regrets about certain mistakes that improve your mindset.”

“What about this Dougcycles?” Molly gestures to the basement, “How do you feel about this?”

Doug takes off his glasses for a moment, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger before running his fingers over his chin, “Apologizing would be the better bet.”

“Well,” Molly says, “That’s a good start, but you should let Amy cool off about this first before confronting her about it.”

“Should Hope be involved in the conversation?” Doug asks, and Molly purses her lips.

“Do you believe she should be?”

Doug looks down at the countertop before clearing his throat, “It doesn’t matter what I think, but I believe it should start off as a one on one conversation.”

“But you had the right idea about involving Hope in this conversation too, Doug, it does have to do with her,” Molly nods, “And apologize to Char-Char while you’re at it as well.”

“How did you-“

“I just know Doug,” Molly smiles, descending from the chair and walking into the living area, “By the way, 6 across is buzzard,” she calls behind her before unlocking her phone

* * *

“Are you alright?” Hope asks, sitting on the edge of the mattress, Amy’s hands on her shoulders, as her own cup her jaw.

“Yeah,” Amy murmurs, “My dad made some comments about you.”

“Oh,” Hope’s lips break out into a smile, “Do I scare him or something?”

“This isn’t something to joke about,” Amy frowns, making Hope bite her lip before nodding, eyes darting to lips before returning to brown eyes.

“I know,” Hope nods, “But you shouldn’t worry about what people say.”

Hope’s phone chimes from behind her, causing her to shift and snake a hand behind her back to grab it.

“Who texted?”

“Annabelle,” Hope looks up, “I need to bring Gerald’s bike back to her house.”

“Today?” Amy asks, and Hope smiles.

“Do you want to do something else then?” Hope raises a brow, “Because your welcome to pal around with me if you desire.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” Hope laughs, “I kind of need you to come with me anyway.”

“Why is that?” Amy raises a brow.

“I have no idea where anything is,” Hope says, “And you’re from here.”

“You want to utilize my knowledge as a GPS?”

Hope shrugs, “Not exactly, I would call it more of a tour guide.”

“And what makes you think I’d do that?” Amy laughs in disbelief.

“Because you’re my girlfriend, and I’ll buy you lunch?”

“Are you basically suggesting we ditch Molly?” Amy half-smiles, Hope’s hand coming up to diffuse the comment before Amy nods quickly, “Because I’m now in.”

“Are you sure Molly would be okay if we ditched her though?” Hope raises a brow, “I don’t want to be the bad guy here.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand, her mom planned to take off the rest of the time we have here to celebrate Hanukkah with her,” Amy shrugs, “How long are you staying here until?”

Hope thinks for a moment, “I believe my dad gave me tickets to come back two days after Christmas.”

“Molly and Annabelle’s flights are for the day after Christmas actually,” Amy says, “And I’ll have to check, but I believe that I might have the same flight as you.”

“Neat.”

Molly’s footfalls are heavy against the stairs as Hope props herself up on an arm, listening to Amy ramble on about something seemingly boring, but apparently, coming out of Amy’s mouth, becoming interesting to listen to.

“I’m heading out,” Molly says, “I’m meeting my mom near Lido’s, text me if you need anything.”

“Trust me,” Amy nods, “This time is for family Molls, I want you to spend time with your mom, I know she’s important.”

“Ames,” Molly laughs softly, “Your family too.”

“What about me?” Hope jokes, “Aren’t I anything?”

“What do you want to be?” Amy raises a brow.

“Obviously not your mistress, that’s for sure.”

“I swear,” Molly grumbles, “I’m going to kill Annabelle for telling you about that.”

“Nah,” Hope grins, “It’s funny to know how much it pisses you off.”

“You know just because one person is gay in a same sex friendship, doesn’t automatically mean that they’re together,” Molly huffs, “Neither of us feel anything romantic between each other, right?”

“Sure,” Amy rolls her eyes, sarcasm lacing her tone.

“Well,” Molly frowns, “Do you?”

“Fuck no!” Amy throws her hands in the air, gesturing a hand between them, “I’d never like you like that.”

“You wish,” Molly laughs.

“I really don’t,” Amy says, “I’ve got Hope.”

“Right,” Molly says.

“You’re not going to have me for much longer if you don’t quit being obnoxious,” Hope deadpans, earning wide eyes from both Amy and Molly.

“I can’t tell if your joking right now,” Amy’s eyes narrow, and a wry grin seemingly spreads over Hope’s lips seconds later.

“Just fucking with you,” Hope chuckles

“Good to know our relationship could potentially only be for your sexual pleasure then,” Amy mutters.

“I’ll see you then Ames,” Molly says, leaning in to give a side hug before nodding towards Hope.

“Bye Molls,” Amy shoots, “Text me!”

“You know I will,” Molly salutes, “Take good care of her.”

“You act like she’s a child,” Hope frowns, “I can take care of her just fine Davidson. Trust me.”

“Don’t need to know the details,” Molly waves, “Just be careful, the both of you.”

“We will Molly,” Amy diffuses, “Love you!”

“Love you too girl!”

“Really?” Hope frowns as Molly moves out of earshot, “You aren’t even with her, why is she getting _‘I love you’s,’_ and all I get is this weird geeky person?”

“You like that, don’t you?”

“It’s debated,” Hope ponders, “Mostly yes.”

“Molly’s my friend. we’re close.”

“And I still think it’s sickening,” Hope rolls her eyes, “There’s always the option of becoming just ordinary friends again.”

“Still not happening,” Amy folds her arms over her chest, “Besides, what are we even doing today that includes me traveling with you?”

Hope grins fondly, “You’ll see soon enough.”

“And you call me weird,” Amy dismisses.

“Go get dressed,” Hope laughs, laying back against the mattress while Amy turns away and starts to make the movement to climb the stairs, “Wait a minute.”

“What?” Amy asks, craning her neck to catch Hope’s eyes.

“Kiss me before you go,” Hope grins, pushing herself back up, legs splayed apart, hands sliding onto knees.

Amy shakes her head shyly and crosses back over to Hope, pressing a kiss to her forehead, and earning a displeased whine from below her.

“What?” Amy tuts.

“Kiss me like you actually mean it Antsler,” Hope frowns, reaching out to abruptly tug her forward by the drawstrings and collar of her hoodie. It earns a muffled retort, hands immediately coming up to hold onto wrists.

Hope feels Amy’s shy smile through the kiss, and her grip softens.

If Hope felt exhausted at all, it dissolved as quickly as the feeling of electricity coursing through her senses at the intoxicating feeling that was Amy’s lips. It somehow always makes everything stop, and her mind completely scream for more… More connection, more feelings.

The taste of coffee on Amy’s lips could be something Hope could get used to, it’s usual overwhelming bitter demeanor seemingly becoming sweet. Completely leaving Hope in awe on how Amy Antsler was indeed one of a million chances.

* * *

Amy sits on the swivel chair beside her desk, bending down to tie the black and red Converse that are now connected to each foot, whilst seemingly making sure that the cuffs of her jeans didn’t look abnormal.

There’s a soft knock, that attracts Amy’s attention, as Charmaine’s head quickly pokes through the ajar door before entering completely and taking a seat on the edge of the bottom bunk.

“HI,” Charmaine says after a moment, looking at Amy’s attire before darting eyes back to hers, “Are you leaving?”

“Hope wants to sightsee, and I’m her best bet for eyes,” Amy acknowledges.

“Oh,” Charmaine nods before pursing her lips, “You know you could’ve told me about Hope honey.”

“I know mom,” Amy says, “I just wasn’t ready to completely put a label on us back then.”

“Then what changed your mind?”

Amy sighs, running a hand through her hair, “Remember when I asked you about how you knew about dad?”

Charmaine nods, “Yes.”

“It was in response to that,” Amy says, “I myself had some insecurities in understanding that Hope and I were something special.”

“She is Amy,” Charmaine smiles, “You are very lucky.”

“And it wasn’t really in direct correlation to what you told me mom, but part of me realized that how you felt for dad, was how I felt for Hope.”

“It wasn’t until you found out that she flew across the United States that you truly were able to connect the dots?” Charmaine guesses, earning a shy nod.

“How’d you know?”

“Mom thing,” Charmaine laughs, “You’ll see it, if you ever decide to have children sweetheart.”

“Why are you coming to talk to me mom?” Amy asks quickly, “Is there something you needed to ask?”

Charmaine shrugs softly, “I wanted to give you something actually.”

Charmaine holds up a finger before getting up and leaving the room, leaving Amy dumbfounded for a minute. When she enters, she carries something clearly vintage, and Amy’s eyes almost pop out of her skull.

“Mom.”

“This was the jacket that I used to wear when I met your father,” Charmaine says, “I want you to have it.”

“Huh?” Amy stutters, “Why are you-“

“Just try it on,” Charmaine tosses the hanger onto the bed before holding the jacket open for Amy’s arms to slip into, “See if it fits.”

Amy’s arms slide through the sleeves, the material swishing as her skin grazes across it, pulling the jacket on, she turns to face Charmaine after a moment.

“It feels nice,” Amy looks down at herself.

It’s a red leather jacket, a Wilsons, with several white stripes across the arms and chest. It almost screams Amy’s style, only muted and extremely humble looking.

“You look beautiful in that sweetheart,” Charmaine says, “Look at yourself in your mirror.”

Amy does, and it makes her seem ultimately more grown, and she turns around and hugs Charmaine quickly, “I love it.”

“I’m glad sweetheart,” Charmaine says, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Amy says.

“Now be careful out there,” Charmaine says, “Don’t go talking to sketchy men.”

Amy rolls her eyes, “I know mom, I’m almost twenty-one.”

“But still,” Charmaine says, “It’s good advice.”

“I won’t mom.”

Charmaine looks at her daughter for a moment before sighing softly, “Don’t hesitate to talk to me about anything though Amy, I’ll always want to hear about you and your life.”

Amy bites her lip and nods, “I know mom.”

* * *

The engine is rumbling beneath Hope’s body, legs straddling the worn seat, as Amy walks down the stoop and bites her lip at the sight.

The helmet is over her face, with the visor up. Black leather belt fastened, and jacket zipped partially up, leaving a small portion of her V-neck poking out, her collarbone straining against cotton fabric as she raises her head to smile at Amy.

“Ready to go?”

“As long as you don’t kill us along the way,” Amy jokes, “I think we’ll be good.”

Hope laughs softly, adjusting her stance and bringing a helmet from behind her back as Amy walks closer to Hope, “Your helmet madam.”

“How chivalrous of you,” Amy laughs softly, their fingers brushing, and it makes her suck in a sharp breath before pulling it over her head, praying that the visor would mask the newfound blush.

“Anything to please my girl,” Hope alludes.

Amy mentally coaxes herself to swing a leg over the bike before swallowing hard, feeling the rumble of the engine as Hope twists the throttle seconds later, the bike roaring for a moment, causing Amy’s heart to momentarily lurch into the back of her throat. Her hands scraping behind the leather seat, looking something to hold onto.

“How do I stay on this thing?” Amy panics.

“Hold on,” Hope cranes her neck to the side before raising her voice over the sound of the bike, flipping her visor down with her left hand, and steadily turning the bike around so that it faced into the street.

“What?” Amy shouts.

But Hope has the bike moving now, and it makes Amy immediately lean forward and involuntary circle arms around her torso, with a loud shriek, causing a deep laugh to rumble through Hope’s throat.

“We’ll start slow if it makes you feel better.”

“That might be better,” Amy laughs nervously, after a moment of Hope slowing their acceleration down, then stopping in the street.

“Name the number,” Hope states, “What do you want to start out with?”

“What about five?” Amy asks, and Hope nods quickly, twisting the grip slowly and beginning to progressively move through the street.

“Just tell me when you want me to speed up babe,” Hope says, “We can go as fast as you want.”

Amy feels her cheeks burn brighter; she could possibly get used to this.

“Go faster,” She yells after a moment, and Hope’s wrist twists slightly, a loud squeal and burying her face further into Hope’s leather clad back.

“Hold onto my beltloops,” Hope shouts back, and Amy’s left hand instantly travels down, grabbing hold of a loop before letting the other hand do the same, “Feel better now?”

“Yeah,” She hollers, “How fast are we going?”

“Twenty.”

“Oh,” She says.

“Is that good?” Hope asks, slowing down as they come to rest at a stoplight.

“Yeah,” Amy nods sharply, “I trust you.”

And those three words are what Hope swears, could possibly undo everything inside of her mind. The pride swells in her chest and her smile courses through her whole face, the helmet covering her shit-eating grin.

“Tilt your head back,” Hope calls, “Look around.”

And Amy does, watching as Hope leans forward slightly, with Amy’s fingers tightly grasping beltloops and the street as it quickly streams by.

Not too fast, but certainly no walk in a park.

She feels comfortable like this, as Hope revs the engine and they take off whenever a light turns green, Amy always squeaking in shock as they tear off, subconsciously holding tighter.

Maybe everyone was right.

_Hope was safe._

_Even doing extremely reckless activities._

And Amy never thought it was at all possible to fall further in love with someone as different as Hope, but that was always the thing with Hope. She liked to prove people wrong, including Amy herself, always making her second guess whether this was truly real, or another fabricated fantasy.

But it was somehow always real, the feelings that coursed through her blood were real.

And Hope felt them all too well, the endorphins, the euphoria, a state of nirvana whenever they were connected.

It had nothing to do with mutual sexual attraction, but God… If that wasn’t there either, she’d be lying… It was _so_ there… And so fucking good.

It just felt right, like Amy belonged here.

Like she could belong anywhere, as long as Hope was near her.

And she knew, Hope felt the same way.

She hoped these feelings would never fleet, no matter what happened.

Fuck her father and his judgement, her heart belonged to Hope, and she didn’t even know it until a few days ago.

_Oh, how people could surprise you when you least expected it._

**Hope was truly a surprise.**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thought. Might take me another few days to update again.
> 
> (By the way, after I came out, my dad was sort of like this too, not exactly, but strong willed and concerned about my wellbeing. A week later he hugged me and looked me in the eyes and told me 'you know what? I really don't care who you choose to have sex with, it doesn't change who you are as a person.' Little disenchanting, but generally it was him accepting me, but he ended up rephrasing it later being like 'I mean, I do, but as long as they treat you right and you're happy, that's all I really care about.')
> 
> (If anyone wanted to know that, I have no idea. I came out to my mom like four years ago as bi while I was in a relationship, that later had emotional feelings that were confusing and just not doing it for me... then last year I was like... I really don't feel anything about guys. Maybe I should sort this out... And Pitch Perfect fell into my lap after we had broken up, and I became obsessed with Bechloe... Then Booksmart... And here we officially are. 
> 
> Single, virgin (Completely okay with this strangely.), gay, and about to go into my senior year... and could possibly die tomorrow... like everyone else because of a virus. 
> 
> Life is weird, right?
> 
> Cheers!
> 
> :)
> 
> <3
> 
> (Also, I have been doing the Twenty One Pilots scavenger hunt for the past few days as well, so that's where I've been, obessesing over Vessel and Trench again... Vessel takes me back to middle school on my new stereo and shitty receiver, it was my first CD that inspired me to start collecting them of my favorite bands. Anyone want to ever chat about PVRIS or P!ATD or some other badass bands, hmu, all my friends think I'm emo because I dress in FOB shirts and speak in lyric quotes. Love that.)


	19. Just double dare me and I promise now that I'll stay, it's not like you're married but I still got carried away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i don't know how to actually feel about the majority of this chapter, it's both cringey to myself and good at the same time... you judge.)
> 
> if any of you are interested in what i'm listening to while i was writing this, i was listening to this really cool dude named 'keshi' 
> 
> it's lo-fi and hip hop. seriously, it's dope. like super chill for me rn.
> 
> also i just read over chapter 16 again and oh my actual fucking god... if that isn't art... argh... in my feelings more then drake so yeah.
> 
> (i've been thinking about starting a one-shot amy&hope fic about the forty or so songs on my ipod that helps inspire shit like this... it isn't always shit... i may be falling in love with these two and this ascetic more than i should. 
> 
> however, i found this one-shot that i started writing back in march regarding booksmart and how amy somehow hears hope rocking out to taylor swift in the parking lot after school... i have no goddamn idea how high i was... but it seemed cool at the time, i was blasting 'mine' and rereading it now makes me want to actually barf... the errors.) 
> 
> (yo... but maybe i'll finish it someday... it could be cool too... as well as 'good girls' one-shot based on the song by 5sos that is basically a montage of amy and hope sneaking around molly, then catching them.)
> 
> if anyone wants to steal that, then give me a shout, i can write more lame ideas... also nyla by blackbear? hello? amy being in columbia and hope still in la? argh... i have so many ideas and no motivation. 
> 
> ya'll are so silent too... please start yelling at me... i need some abuse to write... jk... don't actually physically hurt me... i'm a fragile being... just like... whatever... enjoy this garbage. i'm mentally dead.

> _“Headline?" he asked._
> 
> _"'Swing Set Needs Home,'" I said._
> 
> _"'Desperately Lonely Swing Set Needs Loving Home,'" he said._
> 
> _"'Lonely, Vaguely Pedophilic Swing Set Seeks the Butts of Children,'" I said.”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

CHAPTER 19.)

“Where are we going anyway?” Amy asks as Hope slows down at a stoplight, knowing completely where they were, but still confused on their destination.

Granted, Amy actually thinks letting Hope blindly drive around LA, a city she really hasn’t visited much, is a sort of like a trust exercise.

Amy trusts Hope, practically completely, so this wasn’t exactly abnormal.

However, it seemed foreign, like this was ultimately different in some way. Because to a certain extent, it was. They had an actual label on them. A label Amy was completely okay with.

“I told you it was a surprise Antsler,” Hope tuts, “Let me try to do it myself.”

“Do what?”

“Drive, you bonehead,” Hope groans, “I swear, how are you so blind to the most obvious things?”

“You mean in regard to you? Or in general?” Amy teases.

“Mostly me,” Hope clears her throat, turning right at another four-way intersection, sticking her leg out as she leaned into the turn, momentarily revving the throttle, and making them zip by.

“You know, your welcome to hold onto me,” Hope says, “Just don’t distract me.”

“I am,” Amy says, “You told me to hold onto your belt loops.”

“I didn’t plan for that to actually be distracting,” Hope hollers.

“I’m not trying to distract you, you know,” Amy comments.

“Just hold onto me Amy,” Hope shouts bluntly, and it makes Amy’s heart race. Oddly stunned, but completely alert about the sudden request.

_She wants her to actually grab her, not this sissy bullshit. **Okay calm yourself Antsler**._

Amy swallows quickly, as they brake in front of an old pickup at another light, ignoring the way her palms are suddenly becoming clammy, and quickly circling her left arm around Hope’s midsection, following suit, is her right.

And Amy grabs onto her, actually grabs, like her life depends on it… In a way, it sort of does. But that wasn’t the point, Amy presses her helmeted face into the middle of Hope’s shoulder blades and feels the overgrown smile as it crosses her lips.

Hope practically radiates heat, or maybe it was the fact that her jacket was black, and it was bright outside during the afternoon, but Hope feels warm, nonetheless.

Amy feels at ease, and she can feel it. Hope’s body instantly relaxes too.

“Better?” She feels herself shout, and she feels the rumble of Hope’s words as they enter the air.

It leaves her breathless, even though it’s only one word. Like a freight train. The feelings want to overtake her senses because Hope _cannot_ be _this_ fucking perfect.

“Always.”

_‘Always.’_

Such a strange term alone, she could’ve said forever or constantly, and it would’ve probably hit Amy the same as it has right now.

In a way, it’s filled with answers to their current scenario, completely answering all of her questions about whether this was real or not, and It hits her with adrenaline. Feeling the roar of the bike, and Hope’s answer as it repeats itself over and over in her mind.

It’s better than any conformation of love, any confession, anything else. It’s _always_.

It almost signifies that Hope trusts her too, not that Amy didn’t know that from the start, she did. But Hope hasn’t ever said the words quite like she has, it always has been little signs, little actions, that seemingly were meaningless to the common onlooker, but to Amy, it meant everything.

She doesn’t pride herself in being overly charismatic and completely a wooer, that’s more of Hope’s speed… At least, that’s how Amy imagines herself to be. She has her moments if she tries really hard, swallowing all of her untapped and unknown nerves and goes for whatever she wants.

But it’s rare, and Amy knows that.

She doesn’t like putting herself out there much, but the thing about Hope was that she virtually made all of her past thoughts conflict with the present ones, because she wanted this, she’s always wanted this, and Hope had somehow made her able to help ignore every fear that had held her from just blatantly giving into this.

And _this_ was fantastic.

She didn’t change her, that was the common flaw and misconception about most romance stories, the guy changes to be better.

Neither changed, and there was no guy.

Amy just admitted something that held her from completely giving in to what she unknowingly wanted in the end. _Hope_.

And now that Amy had her – not that there was ever a time she ever believed she didn’t, – she felt more at ease, finally able to fully tell Hope anything, despite fearing it like before. She didn’t change for Hope, Hope didn’t ever need that, she saw Amy for who she truly was, and completely adored that.

But Hope was always flattered in some way, seemingly like another reflex, she couldn’t help but chase after Amy, practically enchanted by the way her entire body lights up whenever she smiled, how she was able to talk about anything and Hope could just magically be interested.

_Amy could talk about literal garbage, and Hope would become deeply infatuated with it._

Hope found interests in all of Amy’s, seemingly wanting to know everything about her life, like she wanted to live her own.

It was completely strange; Hope had never been so comfortable and able to be extremely vulnerable with someone like Amy.

And she wasn’t sure, but for some reason, Hope’s entire heart called to something within Amy’s spirit. They were completely opposite, but seemingly alike in so many ways that were unknown to most stories and records regarding love.

Some may have perhaps called it wrong, but it felt right to them, so it shouldn’t exactly matter.

It doesn’t because they’re both really fucking happy.

This almost feels perfect, and the perfect people are the ones that are always flawed to the average eyes.

Hope was completely in awe, completely in her feelings. (Or whatever the average white person would say about that.) And she was completely okay with being like that with Amy, because deep down, she knew Amy felt the same way.

There was some part of her that felt at ease when Amy wrapped her arms around her though, almost like a blind signal. Like nothing else mattered, but Amy was here so it all basically did.

* * *

Hope rides them into a small parking lot, it’s relatively empty apart from a few cars and two minivans. It’s a small building, it’s tan and has pastel swirls on it’s brick siding. Out front is a holiday themed blackboard sign that’s been written on in red and green chalk.

Hope comes to a stop, extending her legs from the foot pegs and properly dragging them so they touch the dark asphalt. Potentially harming the sole of her shoes, but helping slow the bike’s direction. Hope leans forward and lets both of her shoes touch the parking lot, and Amy takes it as a sign to remove her arms, pulling away to steadily climb off of the bike.

She kills the engine, and leans her weight to her right leg, looking down at her left as she uses her foot to press down on the metal device that swings down and clinks softly against the pavement, Hope shifts her weight to her other leg attempting to see if the bike was stable, before turning the front wheel and releasing the handbrake.

“What’d you just do?” Amy asks, removing her helmet and using her hand to flatten down any hair that had decided to become disoriented in the process of the ride.

Hope dismounts from the bike, turning the front wheel slightly more right, bringing her hands to either side of her face and pulling up on her helmet before grinning widely.

“Just parked,” She smiles, “Pretty neat, right?”

“It’s like a bicycle,” Amy comments, making Hope laugh in disbelief before twisting her neck and throwing her hair back it’s usual position instead of when it was bunched in the helmet.

“Here,” Hope reaches out, taking Amy’s helmet and tucking it beneath an arm, “I can get it for you.”

“T-Thanks,” Amy feels herself blush softly before turning towards the building.

“Have you been here before?” Hope raises a brow as she walks beside Amy, biting her lip from wanting to smile at the sight of Amy’s blush.

“I think this was a hang out spot for most of the popular kids,” Amy ponders, “Me and Molly rarely went to places other than libraries.”

“Not even for frozen yogurt?”

“Is that what this place is?” Amy raises an amused brow.

“Yeah,” Hope exclaims, holding her hand out for Amy to take, their helmets dangle from her other arm as they near the front door.

There’s an animated doorbell sound that emits once they pass through the entrance. An overly enthusiastic young man beams at them when he appears from behind a small entrance behind the register, Hope guesses it’s a kitchen, but it makes Hope almost break out in a large fit of laughter because he looks so pleased by their presence. Even if their complete strangers.

“Hello,” He says, “How may I help you two.”

Amy waves awkwardly, “Uh.”

Hope clears her throat, “I’ve got this,” she whispers before nodding towards the man, “Hey, I called earlier regarding whether or not you guys had vegan options?”

“We certainly do,” He nods, “All of the fruit selections as well as vanilla and chocolate flavors have option.”

Hope turns, “What do you feel like?”

Amy bites her lip, “What about cookie dough?”

“Does the that have a vegan option?” Hope asks, and he nods.

“It most certainly does, the majority of our menu is, if you look up at it,” He gestures to the signs above his head, “If there’s a leaf by the title, it’s made with one-hundred percent of the alternatives to dairy substitutes.”

“Cool,” Hope nods, and turns back to Amy, “Is that what you want?”

“Y-Yeah,” Amy nods, “It sounds good.”

“She’ll have one of those and I’ll take a peppermint.”

* * *

They take a seat on the metal lawn furniture on the far side of the building, outdoor seating seemed like a given in LA considering the weather. Hope manages to set the helmets on the bench the rounds the perimeter of the table, a yellow umbrella above them.

Hope feels like Amy picked this table on purpose though, considering it’s the farthest one from the parking lot and the only one with this color, and she pays it as a mirage to Amy paying attention to her interests, she’s not sure why, but she thinks it’s beautiful that Amy remembers little things that signify her.

They sit a little ways apart, paper bowels filled to the cusp with speckled frozen yogurt, small white plastic spoons stick from the side of each mountain.

“Did you try yours yet?” Hope asks, her feet are spread apart, the belt hangs open as well as the jacket, watching as Amy picks the spoon from the yogurt and cautiously takes a sliver onto it.

“Not quite,” Amy shakes her head, “hold on.”

“What?”

“Take yours,” Amy says, “Let’s do it at the same time.”

Hope chuckles softly, following Amy similar position with her own spoon, placing the tip of the spoon inches from her lips.

“On the count of three then nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd,” Amy grumbles, and it makes Hope laugh softly.

“Three.”

Amy’s eyes focus as she slips the spoon between her lips upon Hope’s word, marveling at how the taste blossoms on her tongue, and she instantly shuts her eyes at how much she adores it. Hope following suite with an amused expression, laughing softly at Amy.

Amy’s eyes flick open after a moment, before raising a brow, “What’s so funny?”

“Your cute.”

Amy’s eyes widen at the statement, she feels her face as it starts to blush for what Amy could only assumed was the millionth time that day… How Hope managed to affect her in ways she couldn’t even understand always seemed to bewilder her.

Because even though she wants to shy away in embarrassment, she wants to also break out in laughter, because, despite it being overly serious, she can’t help but want to disregard it’s validity.

_Amy just doesn’t see that in herself._

_Is that a big deal? It’s totally normal._

“Your kidding,” Amy scoffs, almost like a dumbfounded reflex, and it makes Hope bite her lip to try to hold back the smile. It’s instantly failed, and Hope’s lips are supported by a goofy smile that pulls at something inside of Amy’s chest.

“I’m serious.”

“Nope,” Amy shakes her head, “Your playing with literal fire here.”

“Then burn me,” Hope confides, “It would be an honor.”

“Would it?” Amy ponders.

“Believe me,” Hope says, “If I had it my way, I’d never let you out of my sight.”

Amy purses her lips for a moment, staring at Hope’s overly warm brown eyes, ultimately searching for something within the irises as they flick between her lips before her own break out in a amused smile. Hope’s eyes remained fixed, almost adamant about something, and it oddly scares Amy with how surreal that statement seemed.

Not that she wouldn’t be okay if Hope was like that.

It would be creepy, yes, and she’s eighty-nine percent positive that she wouldn’t ever get any work done if Hope was staring at her all hours of the day…

“Are you trying to be a stalker?”

“Do you want me to be your stalker then?” Hope jokes, making Amy laugh softly.

“If I did, you would be fighting a losing battle.”

“How so?” Hope ponders between another spoonful.

“Maybe I wouldn’t want you to leave either,” Amy bites her lip, watching as Hope swallows the melted milk that had found itself seeping into the back of her throat.

“That could be arranged then,” Hope surmises, and Amy looks up from her bowel, the underside of the handle of the spoon hanging from her mouth as she raises a brow, “Oh, um-“ Hope laughs softly, “You got a little thing here.”

Amy scans Hope’s face as she gestures to her own upper lip, pulling the spoon from her mouth before pulling a napkin to try to dab it, “There? Did I get it?”

“No actually,” Hope chuckles softly, “I’ve got it.”

And Amy is momentarily speechless as Hope licks her thumb and brushes ever so slightly over her upper lip. The action somehow sends feelings tumbling throughout her ribcage, and it leaves her almost breathless as Hope manages to lean practically over the table and effortlessly make her feel small once again.

Looking her deeply in the eyes, and Amy somehow finds herself staring her lips, as they part slightly, letting her tongue dart out and pulling the remnants of the flavored treat into her mouth, before grinning softly to herself.

It almost felt as if she was trying to convey something… Teasing her somehow.

_Jesus, Hope was going to actually kill her._

“D-Did you get it?” She stutters, feeling Hope’s eyes as they leer at her face, how red she must seem right now could be debated on whether or not she could camouflage herself next to the red umbrella the next table over.

“Yeah,” Hope nods, seemingly unfazed, “Or, on second thought.”

“What?” Amy bites her lip, watching as Hope looks down at her bowel before twirling the small spoon in the melting pool. She removes it, a small lump coating the back of the spoon before grinning and raising a brow.

“I guess it’s only fair if you try me now.”

_Scratch that… Hope has officially found a way to kill Amy… Her heart is **not** okay… Palpitations are occurring… Oh my God._

Hope leans forward, biting the inside of her cheek as she brushes the underside of the blunt plastic across her upper lip, leaving a small, faint splotch of white and red speckled liquid in its wake.

Hope pulls away fully sitting back down on the bench, taking the leftover remains of the yogurt covered spoon into her mouth before smiling at a dumbfounded Amy.

“Um,” Amy says after a moment, tongue tracing her upper lip before swallowing the peppermint taste as it croons through her tastebuds. Effortlessly, closing her eyes, letting her mind drift to dreams surrounding that same exact phrase…

_Oh Jesus, she needs to sit down… Well… Lay down._

“You okay there?” Hope laughs softly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before rubbing it against her thigh.

“Y-Yeah,” She nods, “W-Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem somewhere else actually,” Hope shrugs, clearly amused, “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

“I feel as if I’m having Déjà vu all over again,” Amy sighs, “Jesus, you can never give me a break.”

“What?” Hope raises a brow, “You just said you couldn’t get enough of me.”

“The dreams,” Amy holds her hands up, clearly defeated.

Hope’s face instantly breaks out into one of curiosity, “Dreams?”

And Amy’s face completely reddens further, realizing that Hope must’ve put two and two together…

Hope wasn’t supposed to be good at everything.

That simply wasn’t possible.

How the Hell was she able to make Amy feel so fucking conflicted?

Amy blames the leather and tattoos.

_Perhaps that might be something._

“Don’t ask me,” Amy groans, “I really don’t want to get into it.”

“No, no,” Hope tuts, “We are so talking about this, this includes me.”

“It only happened a few times, it doesn’t mean anything,” Amy shakes her head.

“But _we_ happened once,” Hope raises a brow, “Did that mean something?”

“Everything actually,” Amy laughs nervously, “But I’m not going to willfully talk about my fantasies within fictional settings.”

“Fair enough,” Hope laughs softly, “If I could just ask one question though.”

“What’s that?” Amy raises an annoyed brow.

“Did you know the difference?” Hope jabs, earning a scowl.

“Fuck you,” Amy laughs sarcastically, “You ass.”

“Any time of day,” Hope sneers, “You can have it babe.”

* * *

“Where to?” Hope asks, as she revs the engine and feels Amy closely behind her, the roar of the bike sending a shockwave of adrenaline through her blood.

Hope strangely reveled at how much power she felt she had, here on this bike, like she was the king of the world and no one could tell her otherwise.

That euphoria might also be suspended by the fact that Amy’s arms are clutching tightly around her abdomen, but she doesn’t limit that to be the only reason.

Hope can practically feel Amy’s hands as they radiate heat from their palms, the leather providing even more of a barrier between her and the almost setting California sun.

It was times like these, that made Hope wonder, if she was truly alive, surely a person as abrasive to the average, could possibly melt into a puddle for just one, nonetheless for someone so belittling as her to be fallen for as much as she had.

Hope swears that if there was in fact a God that existed, she prayed to them that she’ll never wake up. –If this dream should end the way it seemed, where she indeed got the girl. – Considering, you never actually expect someone like Hope Conrad to earn her stripes as absolute girlfriend material for the actual Woman’s Gender Studies geek, one with the insane best friend and the crazy aesthetically pleasing wardrobe.

To Hell with formalities and all prior knowledge of what was supposed marked and called out as love, because if this was nothing, then Hope could just practically die right here, and be somehow pleased with herself that she achieved to feel something so foreign and out-of-line,

She felt something for Amy Antsler, and it surprised her with how quickly she’s succumbed up to owning up to those feelings, when truthfully, she had always feared admitting to anything other than anger and frustration.

If it came to Amy Antsler, Hope would travel to China, dig a tunnel if she had to, she would find a way to get back to Amy, because being without her felt like being locked out of heaven. A certain pain that fucked with her mind, made her cringe, and want to scream at herself about how dumb it was to almost let her go like she did.

But now they have each other, so that really never mattered. – At least now it didn’t. – Because Amy is now holding onto her like she feels safe, like it’s the only way she’ll be grounded.

It fills her with love. If that’s what this truly was.

She loved Amy so fucking much, and would honestly do anything to make her smile.

They drive past Amy’s elementary school upon Amy’s comment about the small sun bleached brick building, and Hope finds herself doing what is most definitely an illegal U-Turn, despite a few honks from angered Californians, she speeds back toward the building without another thought.

“Where are you taking us?” Amy laughs softly, realizing well enough about where Hope was going, pressing the side of her helmet into Hope’s back, watching as Hope pulls into the empty parking lot, parking by the small rusted gate, before killing the ignition.

“Just following what I feel is right,” Hope says, “Come on.”

And Amy does, watching as Hope takes off her helmet and begins walking towards the fading tan playground, with the sand for the ground and a spongy blacktop that instantly almost makes Amy smile faintly.

“Why are we-“

And instantly Hope’s sprinting away, quickly turning her body around to throw a finger gun at her before hollering something Amy could just barley make out despite the distance.

_‘Catch me if you can.’_

“We could possibly be arrested for this!” Amy yells, giving into the antics and sprinting too, following her into the small grassy patch behind the playground that was occasionally used for soccer-like activities, mostly including four boys who would end up wrestling the goalie to the ground because he missed the shot… or that’s what Amy could faintly remember, she wasn’t normally out here, just a few stories she had heard thanks to Molly and her gossip.

“Lighten up,” Hope calls back, moving to the jungle gym that breaks off left from the field, behind that, however, is reserved for teacher’s parking.

“I am light,” Amy yells, and Hope quickly seems to climb the metal rungs, and starts to reach out to grasp the first few bars.

“I mean,” Hope laughs softly, suppressing a grunt as she reaches out for another before pulling herself to it, “Be cool Amy.”

“I can totally be cool,” Amy fusses, leaning against a green pole with a small cone speaker from the side of it.

“Really?” Hope asks, letting go of the bar before letting her feet hit the ground with a soft thud, “Because your so tense right now.”

“Am not,” Amy deflects.

And Hope just simply shakes her head and crosses the sandy terrain so that she’s directly face-to-face with the shorter girl.

She doesn’t ever feel as though her height is a positive attribute, in most cases, she feels as if because of her height, she feels mentally shorter, unsure of how to directly fit in.

But in this case, she doesn’t tower over Amy, despite their heights, and she’s glad, because she doesn’t want to seem overwhelming or frightening.

Hope doesn’t say another word, simply admiring the way Amy’s body practically gives in to any option of her touch, pulling her closer by one of her side pockets so they now rest only inches apart, and like the majority of the times, Hope’s eyes scan her face, finding nothing but acceptance, her hands reach up. Splaying fingers across a cheek as the other clasps around a hip, tugging her closer.

_As if Hope would really let her get away? **Please**._

And she kisses her, just like the first time, it’s soft and full of untapped feelings, but upon the contact, it’s like all of the feelings are explored at once.

Amy’s the one to pull away after a moment, letting Hope balance her forehead against hers, staring at her lips before laughing softly to herself.

“What’s funny?”

“I want to kiss you again, but I also feel if I do, I might want to do more than just that, and I really don’t want to become some sort of sex offender.”

“You don’t want to become court buddies?” Hope jabs, earning a dumbfounded laugh.

“Not currently, no.”

Hope leans back, pulling Amy into a hug for a moment, setting her chin on her scalp before humming softly to herself, “Guess what though?”

“What?” Amy murmurs.

“You caught me Antsler.”

“Well in that case,” Amy smiles softly against black leather, “I never plan on letting you go Conrad.”

“The feelings are completely mutual.”

“Now what though?” Amy asks, “I thought we had to take Gerald’s bike back.”

“We do,” Hope confirms, “But I wanted to take you out.”

“Your lying,” Amy laughs softly, shifting in Hope’s grasp to her facial expression,

“Your right,” Hope shrugs, “I simply was using you for touring purposes.”

Amy’s jaw drops, mocking a sign of hurt, playfully clutching her chest before shaking her head despite a large smile tugging at her lips, “You conflict me.”

Hope shakes her head, “I see you’ve found my motive then.”

“Which is what?” Amy asks.

“I wanted to push you on the swings over there.”

And Amy shifts around, glancing over at the small swing set that was discarded in the corner of the year with cedar chips as a flooring. Amy’s eyes flick back to Hope’s, in search of any sign of a lie.

She finds none.

Apparently Hope is becoming something entirely different.

Amy doesn’t believe it to be in any way domestic, but it could possibly be.

“You sure?”

Hope shrugs, “Pretty positive.”

“What?” Amy raises a brow, “Is this some sort of fetish you’re not telling me about or something?”

“Falling in love with someone?” Hope scoffs, “I think you know this, that’s no secret.”

“In regarding to the swing set, Hope.”

“I’m serious Amy,” Hope states, “I want to push you.”

“In a non-violent way, right?” Amy ponders.

“OF course,” Hope frowns, “I’m not an abusive person.”

“Alright then,” Amy shrugs, “I guess it’d be fine.”

“Hold on,” Hope says, “Just one more before we head over there.”

And Hope presses a kiss to the corner of Amy’s mouth, butterflies swirling around her gut as Hope effortlessly pulls away and takes her hand in her own, walking slowly through the field, the stars above starting to gleam faintly.

“You know,” Amy says after a moment, “I once wrote somewhere in a notebook about something regarding stars.”

“If this becoming something scientific and boring I will leave you here Amy,” Hope mumbles.

“No, no!” Amy says, “Hear me out, okay?”

“Alright,” Hope sighs.

“I said something along the lines of the phrase ‘ _your eyes are what inspire stars to shine_.’”

“How old were you when you wrote that?” Hope asks.

“I think thirteen?” Amy hums, “I just remembered it.”

“How come?”

“Because I feel like that phrase represents you right now.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for all the popularity this story has gotten, it's probably me though because i keep clicking on my story to see the stats... but for those who are living breathing people... i owe you my gratitude and suport... 
> 
> back when i wrote on wattpad i never had this much traction... and i wrote damn good stories too... garbage now, but at the time i took lots of time with them... but we don't talk about that site anymore because of some shit that happened... 
> 
> anyway... my only famous story was basically a parody of the movie 'to win a date with tad hamilion' that was a anna kendrick x reader fic... i have issues... trust me.... that later turned into a sendrick fic... that ended up being a 'deleted fic' because my account got deleted... oof. but i will never for the life of me ever rewrite that... unless someone begs me to... 
> 
> i have standards for myself now... 
> 
> sort of... 
> 
> don't send help... i'll be fine in my room.
> 
> also... i kept picturing this playground thing months prior to this story even being planned, was thinking of the actual two characters from the movie... not this strange bizarre ones that i've formulated... if anyone want to actually write this differently i will love that.
> 
> older hope and amy going back to their elementary school to just talk on the swing set (perhaps hope pushed amy off at one point when she was younger because molly and her were staying too long) and instead just talking for hours about memories when life was so much different. and hope tells her that she had feelings for her back in 2nd grade and whatever... perhaps it's post nick's and botswana gets delayed slightly due to some storm that made it iniquit to fly?
> 
> just please end up making hope start pushing amy for fuck sake... i keep imagining this now... my heart cannot.... someone write this before i explode. (whether or not hope and amy are established is up to you ig.)
> 
> just think about it for a moment... tell me you don't smile at this.
> 
> ...and yes... 'your eyes are what inspires stars to shine,' is my pick up line... super poetic and elegant... so much so that it's made zero people fall in love with me. felt the need to add that last tidbit... your welcome?
> 
> (i'm losing sleep over this.)
> 
> (soon.)
> 
> <3


	20. And baby, for you, I would fall from grace, just to touch your face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOREWARNING... This contains some smut... and fluff... Took me a while to find a song to get me to write it if I'm honest... Was going to scrap the end, but I had started it... Then Taylor's "Don't Blame Me" came on, and I was like... Yes. Amy and Hope... Fuck... Also... Yes... Going back to Diana liking Queen Swift... Not ashamed of incorporating that into Hope's character.
> 
> Super cringe though, maybe?
> 
> (Have a almost 10K word chapter in an excuse for my long ass departure.(
> 
> just a disclaimer as well, that if you do not listen to The 1975 religiously then you are living under a rock... they are the best.
> 
> But if any of you want to know more inept on why I haven't been around for a hot minute, I've had a small struggle with some mental shit regarding religion and just blatantly scared of everything happening right now… mortality, death, and loneliness… you know…stupid shit you’d think about at 3am instead of sleeping.
> 
> But Matt Healy has honestly just been my oxygen at my 2am panic attacks though, where I’m really fucking terrified of my mind…. Listening to "If I Believe You" while crying on my bedroom floor mostly.
> 
> (on another note, I never expected to get up to chapter 20. so shout out to that. let’s go for 30? Maybe? Depending on my motivational level?)
> 
> (also, sorry if this chapter seems cringy, I have no idea where I was going with this. I genuinely just had a dream about these two outside of a 7-Eleven drinking Slurpee’s on the curb and totally just adored the vibe. Super LA like.)
> 
> I didn’t mean to procrastinate this chapter for so long, I just got really burnt out, and listened to a bunch of my CD’s while trying to brainstorm cute date ideas. Came up with a few, including a sick fucking New Years idea. 
> 
> Winter in New York seems so aesthetically pleasing too, and for all of you people wanting this story… Yes… God… I love these two.
> 
> But I’ve also been working on a one-shot that is based on something that happened to me irl with this girl, but it’s all in the works right now…. 
> 
> Can anyone else please tell me how “Never Bloom Again,” by Waterparks reminds you of Hope? Like oh my fucking God. It so freaking does. Look up the lyrics… PLEASE.
> 
> “All the girls in Los Angeles look like you from a distance.”
> 
> MY HEART… IT CANNOT… I NEED TO WRITE SOMETHING TO THIS AFTER… I STG.
> 
> Like where Hope never gets a call from Amy and instead just… Continues to obsess over her. Waiting by the phone, and instead moving out near Columbia instead of taking her year to travel. Despite Annabelle screaming at her to just get over her, she just cannot let go of Amy.
> 
> (Why do I have problems? Don’t answer that. I’m always lonely.)

> _"Shouldn’t we hold out for the person who doesn’t just tolerate our little quirks, but actually kind of likes them?” — Ted Mosby_

* * *

CHAPTER 20.)

“So,” Hope trails off, casually leaning a shoulder against one of the aluminum polls that helped anchor the swings into the ground.

“So, what?” Amy asks, seating herself further into one of the plastic slings, the metal chains rattling as she repositions herself slightly, making sure she was in the center, before toeing a few chips across the front of her.

“Nothing,” Hope dismisses.

“No,” Amy integrates, “Tell me.”

“It’s okay,” Hope shakes her head, “I think I forgot anyway.”

“On purpose?” Amy states, eyeing Hope with slight suspicion.

“Perhaps,” Hope shrugs slightly.

“Well,” Amy’s hand slides higher on the left chain, looking around it to get a better view of Hope’s lanky frame within the dim moonlight, “You said you were going to push me.”

“Right,” she laughs softly, an amused smile brushing her lips as Amy stares at her with curiosity, “I did say that. Didn’t I?”

“You did,” Amy states, she can feel her face as it subconsciously breaks out in a goofy smile. She clears her throat and looks away, feeling her face heat up as she mentally envisions the intense stare. There’s something that’s wrapped within those eyes that Amy can’t quite ever pin point directly, she always thinks she does, but Hope ends up surprising her each time. But the look proves to be laced with some sort of emotion that could quite possibly be described as affection. She decides to push the tangent further down, swinging her legs outward halfway, before looking back to Hope’s eyes as they continue to stare at her, irises unwavering, “Are you going to live up to expectations then?” She jabs, feeling Hope’s casual smirk make it’s way into her features.

“I’d hope so,” Hope playfully scoffs, “I wouldn’t see why I wouldn’t anyway.”

Hope pushes herself off of the poll with a swift movement, only to move around to the back of Amy’s frame, steadying her shoulder with a hand, the action makes Amy startle softly, probably due to how unexpected or gentle the gesture was, however, she doesn’t say anything more than a subtle exhale.

Hope stands there for a moment, trying to comprehend how that sound makes her exactly feel.

And it’s not the fact that Amy produced that, it’s the fact that Hope made her relax so quickly to the subtle movement, almost perfect, like this was completely a hallucinatory dream. There was no way that Amy could possibly be this amazing.

There was no way that Amy could make Hope feel so completely in love with one simple breath.

But she does, and Hope is immediately transfixed on the sound of Amy’s voice.

The taste of her lips.

She is completely in love with the way her heart feels so full, yet incomplete when they’re apart.

The way her hands feel against her skin.

“You know how to push someone right?” Amy jokes, and it makes Hope snap back into reality. She was still standing behind Amy, somehow mentally checking out.

It wasn’t her fault; she can’t control how much her mind wanders. It was inevitable when it came to Amy and how she made Hope feel.

“Y-Yeah,” Hope’s voice faulters for a moment, before nodding abruptly, “I was actually just waiting to make sure you were okay.”

“I am,” Amy assures. Hope swallows before clearing her throat and blinking, moving her hand from Amy’s shoulder down her spine and towards her lower back. It almost makes Hope stop breathing.

She thinks she does for a few minutes, leaving her hand there. Collecting her confidence before gaining her stability and opening her mouth to properly speak. Avoiding anything else, but how the subtle nature sounds amongst their presence.

“I wanted to actually ask about what your father said about me,” Hope says, pushing her gently forward, “When I told you that I forgot what I was going to say.”

Amy extends her legs outward and leans back, before reversing the order as she glides back into Hope, who helps repeat the process again. Marveling in the way the streetlamps glow a faint orange on the sidewalk on the far side of the building.

“Why?” Amy says, “You know I really don’t want to talk about that.”

“Which part?”

“The part where people don’t like you,” Amy states flatly.

“Why?” Hope feels herself ask.

“Because I just don’t know,” Amy mumbles softly, barely audible for Hope to hear, “I don’t like knowing people are going to judge us based on how they view our appearances.”

“They do that all the time Amy,” Hope says, “It doesn’t matter if someone’s gay or not, it’s common word that people do this.”

“And it’s such a shitty thing,” Amy replies, biting the inside of her cheek, “It’s so shitty because they don’t _know_ you Hope.”

“You _do_ Amy,” Hope silences, “You _know_ me.”

“Why does that matter?” Amy laughs softly, “I’m just me.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Hope says, “That’s why it doesn’t matter what they think.”

“ _But_ -“

“I don’t care about people. Okay?” Hope states, “You approve of me being the way that I am, so why should I care about what anyone else thinks?”

Amy’s shoes snag themselves on the cedar chips, as she moves backward again, slowing her velocity, before making herself stop to Hope’s prior actions.

“But,” Amy starts again, “I care about people.”

“You don’t need to Amy,” Hope sighs, “People are just people.”

“It’s the way Molly and I were Hope,” Amy frowns, “We were always trying to be cool and show off to everyone else because everyone thought so lowly of us.”

Hope laughs softly, “Oh, _Amy_.”

“What?”

“This isn’t fucking high school anymore,” Hope shakes her head, “I’m not behind the school giving tattoos to the potheads in exchange for joints, or trying to impress people who blatantly hate my guts.”

“You did _what_?”

“See?” Hope lets out an airy laugh, avoiding the question, “It doesn’t matter now, no one cares about who we were. All that matters is where we are now.”

“And I’m here with you,” Amy says.

“Is there anywhere else you’d rather be?”

“For the first time in my life I’d be lying if I said anything but no.”

“You really do like me,” Hope states, voice unwavering in awe.

And it almost sounds like a question because Hope now has the same mysterious glint to her eye, that always somehow makes Amy practically putty in her hands.

Like all Hope needs to do, is look at her like this, and Amy could drop dead.

It’s so intense, yet warm and sincere.

Like Hope wants her to answer with a statement, acknowledge the fact that what Hope just said was true.

_Amy knows it’s true._

_She likes Hope._

_She doesn’t have to admit it aloud to know that Hope knows too._

_She had her from the start anyway._

“Yes,” Amy nods.

“Yes, what?” Hope exchanges an amused smile upon Amy’s response.

“I like you,” latching teeth into her bottom lip, Amy inhales deeply, “Quite a lot actually.”

“So, any snide remarks from you father about my tattoos?”

Amy’s face breaks out in a wide grin instantly, seething an exhaustively amused laugh upon Hope’s words, “Are actually quoting Taylor Swift right now?” she says, interrupting the subtle tranquil moment between them with Amy’s soft laughter.

Hope looks away quickly, and Amy can see the faint flush to Hope’s cheeks as tries to avoid being in Amy’s gaze, “I’ll never admit anything.”

“You totally were just now, weren’t you?”

“Shut up,” Hope grumbles, twisting around and folding her arms over her chest and tucking her chin into her chest.

Amy trails the toe of her shoe against the cedar chips, skewing a few to the side, revealing dirt, before climbing to her feet and coming to stand beside Hope. Clearly she was sulking about something.

“You don’t need to hide that.”

“Hide what?” Hope mutters dryly, turning away from Amy’s face as she attempts to get a better read of her facial expression. Hope just cannot fathom seeing Amy when she’s not in her actual element.

“The fact that you’re a Swiftie.”

“It was _one_ time,” Hope protests, “And it was a long time ago.”

Amy bites her lip, before smiling, “You _know_ , I saw that deluxe _Red_ CD when we were driving to New Haven.”

Hope turns back to Amy, clearly perplexed about the fact that Amy is indeed persistent for her to admit this.

How strange it must seem when the roles were reversed.

Now she understands how it felt for Amy to need to go through this experience.

“That was someone else’s,” Hope lies, “I’m not admitting to this.”

Amy shakes her head with an amused grin, “The remarks will be ignored Hope.”

Hope spins around quickly, expression teetering on the brink of confused for a moment, staring down at Amy Antsler.

Though now it feels like she’s only three feet tall, because she feels like Amy has somehow seen straight through her to her own core.

And she’s not sure why, but the thought alone scares the living shit out of her, yet she somehow adores it, because she knows Amy eats up the little things too.

Little details, like song quotes, or ringtones.

However it still catches her off guard, meeting irises that momentarily send her heart into a turmoil. It makes Hope’s heart momentarily swoon, because Amy’s eyes are completely dilated on her gaze, and it makes Hope completely forget where she is for a moment.

Like she doesn’t even notice Amy’s lips moving.

Like she doesn’t even notice Amy’s hand waving in front of her face at first.

Because Amy just makes Hope forget, and maybe that’s a good thing. Because in Hope’s own way, she could get high off of Amy in some sort of sick way… Could it be sick?

Hope doesn’t believe so.

She believes in being able to drown in empty pools, and becoming deaf in silence.

Complete oxymorons, things that contradict reality as a whole.

Amy could possibly be one of those things to a certain extent as well. Completely the opposite to what is true.

Hope believes Amy has somehow made her stop thinking about everything, and she sort of likes that too. Not that she’s ever had that situation before, she never feared truth, or admitting stuff.

But some things are just meant to be just flat out embarrassing. It’s inevitable.

“What?” Hope mumbles, “Sorry.”

“I said,” Amy scrunches her nose for a moment before taking a deep breath, “My heart is yours.”

And their Hope goes, falling so far deep in the deep end. Freefalling into something so unknown, but ultimately right.

But she has to tease Amy back, it’s in her nature. Hope won’t settle for being second for something she’s so good at… Wooing Amy.

It’s always Amy, when has it not been? Hope doesn’t want to think about that.

“Did you just recite the corresponding lyrics of a Taylor Swift song back to me?” Hope laughs, completely in awe of how much Amy surprised her.

“Perhaps,” Amy copies Hope’s earlier actions, and it makes Hope laugh softly in disbelief.

Amy was just too good.

And before Hope’s even expecting it, Amy’s pulling her down by a lapel and forcing their lips to meet. It makes all of the air get knocked from Hope’s lungs, not by the sheer force, but by the lack of preparation.

It was ultimately so unexpected, but something that was derived and perceived as unexpected.

Amy was unexpected.

Hope hadn’t ever expected this, it just happened.

Hope’s hand grabs onto the aluminum anchor for support as her other pulls Amy closer by her hip. Immediately adamant on not letting this moment pass quickly. It’s not feverish, gentle neither.

And Hope finds that no word can perfectly describe the way that describes the amount of emotion that is poured from unspoken gestures like these.

It’s something of complete admiration, and mixed with slight desperation.

Neither want to let this go because they can feel the moment in strong crashing waves.

The insane part of Hope wants to take Amy down right this minute, not needing to worry about any rules and completely ignore any precautions about public indecency.

There alone, on an empty property anyway.

_Well_ , Amy’s elementary school.

However, she doubts Amy would be for breaking laws. Especially after her prior words. The rational part of Hope is Amy’s consciousness reminding her that this was potentially dangerous.

Reluctantly, she pulls away. Clearing her throat before flicking her eyes open to see significantly blown pupils.

“Do you want to maybe get out of here?” She feels herself rasp out.

“Where?” Amy swallows, voice clearly affected to their previous situation as well, “We still need to get the bike back to Annabelle, and we don’t have a way to get home after that.”

“Taxi?” Hope raises a brow.

“I rather not,” Amy says after a moment. There’s silence for a few moments before Hope’s stomach growls abruptly. Earning Amy’s sudden attention.

“What the hell was that?”

“The end of the world,” Hope narrows her eyes.

“Are you being sarcastic right now?” Amy deadpans, “Because it really isn’t helping.”

“Okay,” Hope says, expression softening, “Yes, I was, I’m actually hungry.”

“Didn’t we just eat?” Amy ponders, “What time is it?”

“Seven,” Hope says, looking down at her phone before looking back to Amy, “You got a date or something?”

“Just tell Annabelle that we’ll have Gerald’s bike back tomorrow morning, it’s got to be too late by now.”

“Will do then,” Hope rolls her eyes, “What else?”

“We,” Amy begins, gesturing between the two of them, “Are going to buy junk food from the convenience store up the street, and are calling my parents and telling them that we won’t be coming back home tonight.”

“Really now?” Hope asks, “Didn’t peg you to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be actually fun,” Hope smirks.

“Let’s just go,” Amy frowns, “I’m starting to get irritated by your sarcasm.”

“It’s because I’m hungry,” Hope mumbles unapologetically, “Sorry for being hungry.”

* * *

They head for a 7-Eleven off of the highway, one of Amy’s hands trailing over the teeth of the zipper of Hope’s jacket, while the other grips hold around the fastened belt, it’s purpose was mainly for decoration, but also helping keep the jacket together.

Hope can feel the tension as she twists the throttle, she feels the power surge in all the ways she knows it’s dangerous.

And it feels like she’s high, like she’s completely intoxicated with the feeling of Amy’s touch, in the deep end with the thought of being alone.

_This was really unsafe._

She was on a motorcycle of course, going a good 45 mph.

But damn, how good Hope felt when Amy’s arms were wrapped around her this tightly. It makes something swing low in her gut, and change her attitude about most things, one of which is how much more time she’ll waste beating around the bush.

**She wants to be alone.**

She wants to be with Amy, away from everyone else’s eyes.

But she can’t exactly forget about eating, Amy wouldn’t allow her to forget something so invasive as that, and if Hope’s thinking deeply on the subject, she’s pretty sure Amy would chastise her on proper nutrition over sexual circumstances.

Food or sex, that was the million dollar question.

Honestly, Hope would prefer either as long as Amy was involved.

_Well_ … More so the latter, _but_ she wouldn’t be against eating with Amy.

Priorities are important.

* * *

They’re standing in front of the chip rack. Hope believes they’ve officially stood there for longer than she exactly wants to, Amy however, is taking her time, looking at each bag and reading each ingredient list like it’s a book.

Though currently, Amy’s hands are occupied by two separate bags, view turning between both ingredient listings, and comparing both.

“Original Fritos are vegan friendly, right?” Hope looks over, holding a bag of tortilla chips as Amy hums lightly.

She is so done with this. How much longer she’ll stand here without having a mental breakdown isn’t yet determined, but if Amy doesn’t hurry the fuck up, she’ll be ninety before she walks out of this store.

The things she’d do for Amy’s sake.

Most would find them unbearable; Hope just finds them tedious and well-staged in her opinion. She’d do almost the impossible to make Amy smile, and Hope isn’t exactly sure why she would, because she hasn’t ever wanted to do that before for anyone else.

Call Hope romantic, and she’d probably roll her eyes at you because she wouldn’t ever want to exactly admit the truth.

She really enjoyed Amy’s company. Perhaps even loved her.

She couldn’t get too far ahead of herself though, their relationship was still in its beginning phase, still young.

“I believe so,” Amy says, “I just wanted to make sure.”

“That never hurts,” Hope nods in agreement, gesturing the bag of tortilla chips at Amy, “But are you really sure we need these too?”

Amy frowns, looking at Hope with a clearly annoyed expression, “Yes, we need them.”

“Fine, fine,” Hope lets out an exasperated sigh, “I just really want to get some Cheetos though.”

“They aren’t vegan,” Amy pipes up, practically whining at the words, “I can’t eat them Hope.”

“Well, that’s your own damn fault for being a vegan then,” Hope calls back.

“My parents raised me this way,” Amy states, “And I turned out fine.”

“That’s debatable.”

“Shut up,” Amy rolls her eyes, “I think I want a Slurpee anyway.”

“Never in a million years will I,” Hope laughs, “You continue to amuse me.”

“And you continue to ramble on about bullshit, yet somehow I’m still here.”

Hope lets out an airy breath, “You’re such a nerd.”

“Whatever,” Amy silently mutters, flipping her off, and walking away with a bag of Fritos gripped in her left hand, making a b-line for the giant machine near the back beside the soft drink selections.

Amy stands there for a moment, staring at the colors and logos before Hope surfaces beside her, frame instantly facing the machine before reaching for one of the larger plastic cups near the top.

“What flavor do you think I should get?” Hope asks, “Debating between Blue Raspberry and Wild Cherry.”

“What about both?”

Hope’s neck cranes back to grin at Amy, “Why, your just full of ideas, aren’t you?”

Amy shrugs unapologetically, “I’ve been told that a time or two before actually .”

“But I believe I wouldn’t favor being victim of a blue mouth actually,” Hope deadpans, “I’ll just do Mountain Dew.”

“Well,” Amy says, “I think I might take up my own idea then. Blue mouth included.”

“Sure,” Hope chuckles, “You’d be adorable with blue lips.”

“Just fuck off and get me a cup,” Amy scoffs, “I can’t reach them.”

“If you keep insulting me I’ll make you sleep in the motel bathtub,” Hope replies, reaching up and grasping for the cup before passing it to Amy’s deft fingers as they reach out for it. There fingers touch, and Hope manages to see the muscles in Amy’s jaw as they clench, and she swallows.

“Thank you,” Amy murmurs softly, standing beside Hope in front of the machine before pulling one of the handles down, the spout injecting the flavor into her cup.

Hope laughs softly, letting go of her own handle before taking a long drink from the partially full cup, “Sure.”

Amy’s eyes widen as she stares wordlessly at Hope, drinking the remnants from her cup before positioning it back beneath the spout and pulling the handle down again.

“You can’t just do that,” Amy hisses out.

“Do what?” Hope raises a brow, filling up the cup the rest of the way before moving to grab a plastic lid and straw.

“Drink it before paying,” Amy says, “Isn’t that stealing?”

“I’m paying for it anyway Amy, I’m not filling it just to drink as much as I please and throw it away without paying for it.”

“I guess you’re right,” Amy shrugs lightly, popping the lid onto the edges of the cup, before unwrapping a straw and pushing it into the opening in the lid.

“You need to seriously let loose,” Hope shakes her head, and chuckles drily.

“I am loose,” Amy protests.

“Whatever nerd,” Hope dismisses, grabbing their things in her hands and gesturing with her chin towards the front counter, “Come on now.”

* * *

They sit on the curb beside Hope’s bike, drinking their Slurpee’s and staring at some of the people as they pass by them.

They’ve actually parked farther towards the left side of the parking lot, so people passing by them is uncommon in its own right. Hope’s basically able to touch the front tire of the motorcycle with her right hand with ease if she desired to.

“So,” Hope says, the plastic straw falling back into the cup as her lips release it. The streetlamps coat parts of the parking lot that they look out to.

Amy’s legs are sprawled outwards, and she holds herself upright on her left arm, a bag of Fritos laying against her side with her other hand occasionally grabbing a handful of chips from it.

“What?” Amy asks, looking over to Hope, before grinning, and reaching over to take a sip from her own cup.

Hope opens her mouth to say something witty, however the sharp sting from her temple makes her grunt softly, her hand coming up to press against it, in an attempt to sooth the jab.

“Goddamnit,” she curses.

“Brain freeze?”

“Fuck,” Hope nods weakly, the action makes Amy reach over to touch the side of Hope’s hand that rubbing against her temple idlily.

“Here,” Amy whispers, Hope’s hand stops, looking over with confusion until Amy laughs softly, “Let me.”

Within a few minutes Hope relaxes, strangely knowing that Amy’s actions were completely pointless, but the fact that she insisted on taking control made Hope smile at the gesture. Closing her eyes at the feeling of soft pads grazing against her skin.

“Thanks,” she mumbles softly, earning a soft giggle from beside her. Hope would normally be perplexed at why Amy would possibly sound so amused from herself, however she’s pretty sure that she was completely mesmerized with Amy’s prior actions.

But one thought remained, she wanted to know if she could help make Amy do that again.

Because Hope finds it utterly beautiful, just like the rest of Amy.

“Sure thing sweetie,” Amy whispers.

It comes out like a reflex, and Amy doesn’t actually realize that she’s said it, until Hope’s eyes dart over to hers before looking away quickly.

In a way, it’s a good reflex Amy thinks, however, not something she should exactly jump to automatically, because parts of her are still coy at throwing all caution to the wind and saying the first thing in her brain.

But it’s a good venture, a good attempt, and Amy shouldn’t hide behind how she truly feels.

Hope feels the blush on Amy’s cheeks as she musters up the strength, and pulls Amy’s wrist to position the back of her hand beside her lips, before kissing it gently.

Hope doesn’t have to look at Amy’s face to know she’s blushing deeper now; she doesn’t need to look to know because Hope adores the idea in itself.

She loves to leave Amy speechless.

“For your troubles,” she whispers softly, flicking eyes over to Amy’s blank face, completely shocked in Hope’s actions, but completely not opposed to them.

“Y-Yeah,” Amy stutters, looking away quickly, and pulling her arm to drape against her side again, “N-No problem.”

Hope smiles to herself, taking another sip from the straw, before clearing her throat.

“Hey,” Hope says after a moment, Amy’s eyes wordlessly flick over to her before Hope bites her lip, “Do you maybe want to lean against me?”

“I don’t understand,” Amy raises a brow. She’s trying to calm her current racing heart, and she’s pretty sure her face is as red as a stop sign.

Amy doesn’t know exactly _what_ more contact with Hope would _do_ to her, potentially ramp up the sexual tension.

“You know,” Hope replies, clearly nervous, “Like that thing in the movies, where the guy puts his arm around the girl, and she leans into his side.”

They’ve done this before. Amy knows it, they’ve fallen asleep on Hope’s couch like this.

She loves laying like this, it feels safer. But it’s seriously risky, given Amy’s current heartrate.

Potentially beating out of her chest.

“Oh,” Amy laughs softly, and Hope sees the light blush as she looks away quickly, mentally debating an answer without looking like an idiot, “I mean i-if you want to.”\

“I was asking you actually,” Hope points out.

“Well,” Amy ponders, clearing her throat and biting the inside of her cheek, and nodding quickly, “Sure.”

Hope’s right arm opens softly, letting Amy fall into it, and resting her head against the side of her jacket.

It isn’t exactly the most comfortable position, Amy would rather be in different or no clothes for this, but she doesn’t complain. Amy simply likes the ability to be close to Hope, it feels almost natural.

She feels safe like this.

“You still need to call your parents,” Hope says after a moment, “Because I really don’t want to go back to your house tonight.”

“Are my parent’s hospitality not fitting for your badass demeanor?” Amy jokes lightly.

It makes Hope laugh softly in amusement, “I appreciate that you see me that way, but I honestly just want to be alone with you.”

“And this would entail?”

“Being alone in a motel room.”

“Be more specific Hope,” Amy looks up at Hope’s eyes as they trail in the distance.

“Um,” Hope chuckles nervously.

“Are you afraid to call it what it is?” Amy presses.

“Yes Amy,” Hope shakes her head in disbelief, “I do want to do _that_ again.”

“What?” Amy raises a brow.

“Fucking Hell,” Hope scoffs, looking back to Amy’s eyes before looking away quickly, “You know…”

“It’s sex Hope,” Amy states bluntly, laughing softly to herself, “Not the boogieman.”

“Touché Antsler,” Hope comments, it’s airy, and it makes Amy bite her bottom lip and swallow hard..

She needs to call her parents.

Like. _Now_.

“Hold on,” Amy whispers, “Let me up.”

“Are you going far?” Hope asks, eyeing Amy as she climbs to her feet before taking her phone from her pocket and carrying her Slurpee in her other hand.

“I’m just going to call my mom.”

“Okay,” Hope nods, “Don’t go far.”

“I’m just right here,” Amy laughs softly, leaning against the side of the building before holding the phone to her ear.

* * *

“Did you lie to your mom?”

“Sort of?” Amy calls back, pulling the helmet over her face, and flipping the visor down, swinging her leg over the bike behind Hope’s seated frame.

“What do you mean _‘sort of’_?” Hope chuckles.

“I couldn’t actually tell her we’re ditching my dad and her to go fool around Hope.”

“What’d you mean?” Hope laughs softly, “That’s like _exactly_ what we’re going to do.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Amy rolls her eyes as Hope pushes off and revs the throttle, moving them out of the parking lot, and into the street, “She was understanding.”

“Well,” Hope shrugs, craning her neck back, as they stop at a stop sign, “Annabelle told me to use protection, so at least you got a better response than I did.”

“Sheesh,” Amy mutters, “She was all over the place in high school.”

“Really?” Hope raises a brow, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, “She was?”

“Oh yeah,” Amy says, “But somethings, you just need to learn about the hard way to figure out your own place in the world. You know?”

“Yeah,” Hope says, “I know.”

“Like us.”

“Like us,” Hope echoes nonchalantly.

“I can’t believe I met you sometimes,” Amy says as Hope turns the key into the ignition, making the engine roar to life beneath them.

“Which reminds me,” Hope says, flipping her own visor down, before looking around Amy’s shoulder to help reposition the bike, “Where were you?”

“What do you mean?” Amy raises a brow, “You know I was here.”

“No, I mean,” Hope laughs softly, “I mean, before this.”

“Before this?”

“Yeah,” Hope nods, twisting the throttle, and leaning forward on the bike, “I mean it doesn’t feel right that we just met now.”

“I wouldn’t trade it for anything else,” Amy calls, burying her helmeted face into Hope’s back.

“Me neither,” Hope yells, “You’re the fucking best.”

_And I think I might love you too._

* * *

As soon as Hope locks the door behind herself, Amy is already moving in an attempt to capture her lips, feeling Hope’s smile as it finds its way into the equation. Hope’s hands drop their helmets, sending them to the floor in a soft thud as her hands involuntarily find Amy’s waist, pulling her further closer to her own body, and craning her face further down for Amy’s convenience.

“It sucks that your so tall,” Amy whispers through a soft laugh resonating from the back of her throat.

“Yeah,” Hope acknowledges with an amused4 grin, “You’re not the only one thinking that right now.”

Hope’s hand moves to slide the zipper from the collar of Amy’s jacket downward, the teeth unlatching from each other as the slider crosses over them, exposing Amy’s shirt behind it. It makes Hope swallow because she’s still slightly nervous.

_She doesn’t want to fuck this up._

Amy doesn’t say anything, feeling Hope’s hands as they smooth up over her stomach and past her ribs. She knows her breath hitches, and she’s pretty sure Hope hears it too, but neither mention anything as Hope slowly turns them so that Amy was against the door.

It isn’t a threatening position, Hope isn’t being domineering or controlling the moment between them, she’s just doing what feels right. Controlling her own nerves, as her heart pounds beneath her ribcage.

She isn’t scared of Amy, not of anything involving Amy, it’s the feelings that progress past anything she’s ever been accustomed to, the feelings that transport her mind into being so divinely infatuated with Amy fucking Antsler.

And maybe it was love, Hope wouldn’t ever be opposed to that thought, she knows she wouldn’t ever tire of this nerve. Always feeling like a teenager high on endorphins and a certain state of nirvana. She wants this, all of this.

Always riding high on being around Amy, always wanting to be like this.

And maybe at that moment, Hope swears, she could never pull herself to ever leave.

Because Amy was everything.

“Wait,” Amy’s mind freezes, momentarily Hope stalls, pulling away to catch Amy’s eyes, full of concern, possibly in slight fear that she did something wrong to make Amy uncomfortable.

Maybe Hope’s heart stops for a moment, she can’t quite tell, her mind is currently fuzzy, and she’s sure her intelligence would not be okay if Amy decided to quiz her about something. Possibly the tortilla chips, which were in one of the side compartments outside.

There was no way in hell Hope was going to functionally move, without tripping over her own feet.

“What’s wrong?” She whispers, voice low.

Amy looks down at the floor beside their feet, before looking back to Hope’s eyes, a smile tugging at her lips, “I just wanted to make sure we don’t trip on the helmets.”

Hope laughs softly to herself, instantly relieved that something wasn’t terribly wrong, “Of course you would care about that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We could be in the middle of making out against this door, and you’d still worry about the stupid helmets,” Hope clarifies.

Amy feels her emotions clench in her gut at those words, sending an image into her mind that makes teeth latch into her bottom lip in an attempt to not make any obscure noise as she inhales deeply, breath hitching silently.

“R-Right.”

Hope’s eyes practically shine in amusement at Amy’s reaction, “Do you want that?”

“W-Want what?” Amy stutters, breath stilling as Hope moves closer, backing her momentarily up closer to the door.

“Me?”

Hope feels Amy react, lurching forward to forcefully pull her down, hastily unthreading the belt from its 4position, and quickly trying to expose as much skin as possible. Hope wants to chastise her at how needy it seems, but the truth was, she was the same way, she wanted this too.

“Your really pretty,” Amy murmurs softly, Hope’s jacket being shrugged off quickly, her hand coming up to press against the door beside Amy’s face before she’s reaching beneath Amy’s chin and connecting their lips back together.

And it’s all at once, Amy’s hands are threading through the beltloops of Hope’s pants, trying to get her as close as possible with their current situation.

“I want you,” Hope manages to breath out, pressing their foreheads together, struggling to catch her own breath, eyes darting between Amy’s blown irises.

“I know,” Amy says, running her hands lower and tucking her index and middle finger into her front pockets before pushing herself forward, pushing herself into Hope and feeling the light rumble as it makes its way through Hope’s chest. It’s a deep moan, one that’s significantly longing for more of Amy’s skin.

Amy’s more than happy to oblige, she wants that too.

And it’s like the whole demeanor of the room shifts, this is no longer meant to be something pretty or trying to be special.

Granted the thought alone is something special in itself, and Amy treasures the feeling of Hope being like this with her more than anything else in the entire world, but Amy just really doesn’t need to worry about anything else… She doesn’t want to.

All she can feel is Hope’s hands against her ribs, trying to push themselves toward the bed, but apparently relishing the moment in its hastily manor.

“Take off your shoes,” Hope mumbles, moving away quickly and kneeling against the blue carpeted floor, a few feet away, unlacing both sneakers before struggling to tug them off each foot.

“You need to unlace them one eyelet, that’s why they’re so tight to take off,” Amy notes, staring at Hope’s deft fingers as they untie each knot, and coaxing herself from the door to follow Hope’s similar actions, kicking them off as well as her socks, and moving to hastily unbutton her jeans. Feeling Hope’s eyes as she looks down at herself, hopping on each foot to progressively release each ankle from the tight cuffs.

_Skinny jeans were really made by parents who didn’t want their kids being so obscene._

“I don’t want to hear you tell me what I need to do better about myself right now Amy,” Hope says, catching Amy’s eyes as they flick to meet hers.

Hope’s gawking, it’s apparent, Amy knows it too.

And she’s not sure if she likes the feeling, because she’s extremely embarrassed at how flustered she feels from Hope’s wanton gaze. She should feel shameful, she doesn’t need to feel this proud at the fact that Hope is completely in silent awe.

“Sorry,” Amy whispers, looking down at the floor, Hope’s sock clad feet are stark against the carpet.

They’ve got little red pandas, completely random, but her thoughts drift back to the stuffed panda in her room.

_Oh, how things change_.

But instantly, it doesn’t matter because Hope’s tugging the collar of her shirt over her head, and Amy can’t help but watch, strength teetering, staring at Hope’s skin.

And parts of Amy yearn to touch every inch of it, trace each tattoo with her lips, let her emotions fog over every doubt. Again and again.

Because damn, if Hope didn’t look good.

Amy understands why people write songs about these sorts of things now, she used to think it was corny back in middle school. Where the kids at dances would all chant the words to a chart topper that was clearly referencing sex in blatantly obvious metaphors, and the teachers apparently put up with it.

“Your staring,” Hope says after a moment, watching Amy’s gaze as she stays glued to the spot.

Amy’s eyes blink slowly, and she shakes her head, throwing all fuzziness and tangents to the side, she blinks back to Hope’s amused smile.

“Sorry,” she laughs softly, “I can’t help it.”

Hope laughs softly too, dropping the shirt from her left arm, tongue darting out to coat her lips before swallowing abruptly.

“Why do you think that is?” Hope clears her throat, moving across the floor to stand inches from Amy’s frame.

Amy still couldn’t get over how much taller Hope stood.

Sure it was only a mere few inches, but Hope still somehow managed to make her both feel small and warm inside all at once, with only a single look from her eyes Amy could lose her train of thought instantly.

It was some kind of magic; Amy swears to God it was.

But it was something that Amy was never going to opposed of, because Hope made her feel something so strong and powerful, and it still boggled her mind how they got here.

How she was so strongly attached to thoughts and feelings of this woman.

Time was no different however, Amy felt that there was no way she was going to respond properly without stumbling slightly. Letting feelings overtake her, she looks away, trying to compose a proper response, the action only making Hope’s smile widen in amusement, “U-Um.”

“Well?” Hope reiterates, raising a brow, and moving so she stood mere inches from Amy.

“I enjoy looking at you,” Amy states, feeling her cheeks heat up at her confirmation, before looking away quickly again, only the area she finds her eyes with is a clear view of Hope’s exposed and pale sternum.

Hope’s fingers pull the bottom of Amy’s chin up to connect their eyes back together, she smiles fondly at Amy before leaning down slowly, feeling Amy’s hands instantly coming up to cup both sides of her face in a slow kiss.

“Well that’s good,” Hope whispers, leaning her forehead against Amy’s before chuckling in disbelief.

“Can I ask you something?” Amy asks, eyes darting between Hope’s parted lips and irises, before Hope hums lightly in acknowledgement, feeling a hand skim under the hem of her shirt.

“Anything baby,” she whispers, “I’m all ears.”

Amy bites her lip before inhaling a shaky breath and chuckling nervously to herself, “I-Is it weird that I’m nervous right now?”

“No,” Hope laughs softly, “I feel the exact same way.”

“So I’m not alone?” Amy asks.

“I really want this,” Hope says after a minute, “I think it’s always going to be nerve-racking until we become more comfortable life this.”

“A-And your good with that?”

Hope chuckles softly, “Only if you want to Amy.”

“Y-Yeah,” Amy nods quickly, feeling her face flush deeper, “I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Good,” Hope says, voice lowering several octaves, “I’d never not want this either.”

Amy feels Hope’s hands as they play with the hem of her own shirt before pulling back slightly and allowing the material to slip further away from her skin. She feels herself subconsciously close her eyes, letting hair fall in inconvenient spots, and hearing Hope chuckle softly to herself, tracing a finger down the expansion of Amy’s sternum.

The action makes Amy release a shaky breath that she didn’t realize she was holding back until she feels Hope’s lips beside her ear.

“You good?” Hope’s breath tickles her earlobe, and she swears that she almost lets out an involuntarily shiver at the feeling of Hope’s breath against her skin.

“Y-Yeah,” she whispers, “I am.”

“That’s good,” Hope replies, pressing lips to her jawline before trailing them back to her own, “me too.”

“You still need to take off your pants,” Amy breathes out, and it almost seems like the air around them has instantly become palatable, and the thought alone sparks something within Amy’s own core.

“I know,” Hope whispers, her hands slinking away to quickly unbutton her pants as they start to move.

It’s not graceful, not like any of the movies Amy’s ever seen, where the guy carries the girl to the bed in some romantic escapade. It’s hesitant, and completely slow, but with mutual anticipation. Both wanted this as badly as the other.

And there’s something about that thought that makes Amy want to laugh at how ridiculous that sounds, surely it couldn’t be as simple as that.

Hope couldn’t be as perfect as that, but she was.

Flawed, but perfect.

Amy flops onto the bed on her back, shifting her body upwards towards the pillows, as Hope fumbles to discarded her pants, almost losing her balance multiple times removing each pantleg at the foot of the bed, and Amy takes it as an opportunity to get a good eyeful of Hope.

The sight makes something strike within Amy’s chest. Because it’s endearing and mesmerizing all at once, and it makes Amy want this forever.

Want to stare at perfectly imperfect Hope for as long as she can, choosing to sit up as much as she can while keeping her position to unclasp her bra from behind her back.

Hope’s face manages to resurfaces seconds later, the sight sends something warm through Amy’s veins, and it makes a goofy grin plaster against her lips, like she was high. Almost giggling at how careless Hope seemed, only caring to find herself back to Amy.

And the thought alone is enduring to note. The fact that Hope has taken the time to want to see Amy’s face more than she should. Flying across the United States to confront her.

It’s like she felt the same way as her, it’s like she feels it too.

_Like Hope could love her._

Maybe there was something inside of Amy that hoped that this wasn’t ever going to end either, she felt something for this girl.

_And she never wanted it to end._

“Are you okay?” Amy manages to giggle, Hope’s frame crawls across the mattress, straddling her waist and leaning her face down to nudge her nose against Amy’s. The action makes Amy lay completely down, fingers coming up to push falling tendrils from Hope’s eyes as they stare intently at her.

“Yeah,” Hope laughs softly, “I wouldn’t ever not be.”

“Why do you think that would be?” Amy whispers, echoing Hope’s previous statement.

“Because I’m with you,” Hope murmurs, bringing a hand to trace the line from Amy’s stomach up to the elastic of her bra, and Amy feels her face flush deeper, pulling Hope’s lips down hastily.

There’s something that resonates within Hope’s almost tantalizing smile that helps Amy achieve a wave of strength she never had called upon before, it sends a bolt of electricity running through her veins and into her heart, potentially shocking it into a sense of palpitations.

“Take it off,” she whispers, eyes darting down to Hope’s fingers, as dark eyes flick upward to meet hers for confirmation before reaching to slowly slide the straps down her shoulders and past her biceps. Seemingly making Hope swallow hard.

“Good?” Hope rasps.

And there’s something in Hope’s eyes that could make Amy swoon, in a sense of ecstasy. Only Amy doesn’t respond, instead catching Hope off guard by leaning up to find lips, reaching up to circle hands around spine.

Hope doesn’t talk much more, watching as Amy somehow finds it within herself to reverse the rolls and flip them over.

It makes Hope laugh softly in disbelief, staring at Amy’s eyes as she takes Hope’s previous position, straddling Hope’s waist, before craning her face down to meet Hope’s lips halfway. The feelings have shifted back to the previous mood.

It’s slow, but urgent, completely needed.

Amy wants this, placing kisses down Hope’s jaw, with her hands running fingers over peaks, causing the air to be knocked from Hope’s lungs in an instant, almost feeling some sort of higher power envelope her consciousness.

“Your beautiful,” she whispers against skin, running hands past ribs to trace that tattoo over her ribcage that brings her back. She realizes it’s meaning, and it makes her almost falter.

_‘_ _Serch Bythol.’_

_‘For everlasting love.’_

“Hey,” Hope murmurs softly, and it makes Amy pull her face back slowly to glance back into Hope’s eyes, the gaze looks so intense, almost like she was saying a million words to her, and Amy couldn’t decipher all of them at once, however, even if it was complicated, all Amy needed was that one smile.

Because in it, she knew completely what Hope felt, because she knew she was feeling it too,

“What?” Amy breathes, almost like she’s out of breath, because that look, the look that Hope has, makes her want to stay in this forever. It manages to knock all of the air from her lungs, air that she didn’t know she had stored.

_Hope was everything, and Amy knew that._

“Don’t think you aren’t either. Okay?” Hope says, voice unwavering, and Amy doesn’t say anything else. She didn’t need to, she brushes their lips together again, feeling Hope’s hands as one cradles her jaw, the other finding her one of her hands resting over the one of the sides of her ribs, over the tattoo, and silently lacing their fingers together. Almost like a quiet promise. After a moment, Amy pulls away and Hope instantly connects their foreheads, “Because you are Amy.”

“Y-Yeah,” Amy nods quickly, feeling Hope’s hand let go of hers and reach up to pull Amy’s face back down to its previous arrangement.

Amy’s fingers trail down Hope’s chest, falling to the waistband of her underwear. Hope’s quick gasp as Amy pushes her fingers past, the elastic engulfing her wrist, and suddenly Hope’s hand is holding her own wrist, halting her movement.

“Take those off before you do anything else,” Hope clarifies, and it makes Amy’s heart beat faster, she sits up, slowly, her limbs are almost jelly at this point.

Amy isn’t exactly nervous, but she’s not calm either.

She shifts her body to settle between Hope’s knees, reaching up to pull the material past Hope’s thighs, Hope’s eyes are trained on her hands as her own focuses on the way her mind blurs immediately after she discards the material past the edge of the bed.

“You still have your socks on,” Amy pauses, turning back to Hope’s eyes, “Oh my God.”

“What?” Hope’s eyes widen, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Amy laughs softly, “It’s just funny.”

“What?”

“You didn’t take them off,” Amy shrugs.

“Maybe you should take care of it then since you care so much about that.”

“Perhaps I might,” Amy ponders, moving back to strip each foot bare.

“I don’t see why that’s such a big deal,” Hope laughs, clearly dumbfound, “They’re just socks.”

“Hope,” Amy says after a moment, moving to straddle a thigh as Hope continues to banter, interrupting all possible confrontation by splaying a palm against Hope’s toned stomach, easily silencing the taller girl.

“You just-“

“I’m annoying sometimes,” Amy concludes, “I get that.”

“No Amy,” Hope shakes her head, “Not that.”

“But you were thinking that.”

“I wasn’t actually,” Hope says, “I was going to mention how you just make me feel something that I just cannot comprehend sometimes.”

“Oh,” Amy whispers, almost like a laugh.

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Hope asks, clearly perplexed, “Because it wasn’t to me.”

“No,” Amy shakes her head, “I feel something like that too.”

And Amy’s moves to kneel over Hope’s frame, leg on either side of hers, feeling Hope’s hands as they cup either side of her face, as her hand travels past her stomach and runs digits through folds.

It makes Hope gasp softly, almost like a quiet warning, like a satisfied feeling, like Hope wouldn’t want anything more than this moment.

“ _Amy_ ,”

Fingers brace themselves on Amy’s elbow, blunt nails digging into soft skin, as walls search for something between them, and Amy looks up, finding Hope’s stare.

And it’s all electric, all at once, Amy leans forward, kissing Hope and pushing her fingers in. Swallowing the sharp gasp and feeling herself become overtaken with the familiar feeling pulling low in her gut. Amy swears her heart skips beats, feeling Hope’s hands anchor into her scalp, leaning foreheads against one another.

And it’s messy, not right, Amy can’t tell if anything is right.

But Hope seems like there’s nothing in the world she’s rather want, and Amy feels it too, with the soft gasps every so often, and the way Hope’s hips would cant upwards as she’d trace her thumb over nerves significantly drawing out a low moan from the back of her throat that almost makes Amy’s blood run both cold and seemingly light up within veins all at once.

It’s intoxicating, and she finds her face buried in the side of Hope’s neck, fingers supported by Hope’s infrequent movements, almost trying to gage a reaction for what was to progress past this moment.

And Amy swears, she’s never felt more happier than she feels right now, being with Hope, being around this carefree spirt.

_This wonderful person to ever show her face in Amy’s eyes._

She wonders how she had never met her sooner, and wishes she had let go of her fears sooner, because Hope is one of the best things to ever come around in her life after her small crushes in high school.

_Hope was real._

Hope was a living and breathing person that wanted nothing more than to be with Amy, in her neurotic and maniac entirety.

Hope falls off the edge by Amy’s own doing, heart full, and never wanting to feel anything but this, with Amy’s lips dancing across her collarbone and across the roses and black wisps on her bicep.

It feels so surreal and perfect, all at once.

“Hope?” Amy whispers after a moment, fingers stilling, breath momentarily slowing. as well as heartrates.

“Y-Yeah Amy?” She stutters, not exactly able to fully communicate properly with a hazy mind, completely taken aback by the sight of Amy’s eyes staring at her with something full of what could be adoration, and it sends Hope into a state of grace.

“You make me happy.”

Hope smiles softly, her heart practically blooms at those words, she almost wants to cry because she never knew she needed to hear that phrase in all of her life, she’s not sure if her voice breaks, she doesn’t care either.

“You do too,” Hope whispers, feeling Amy’s fingers rub circles around the tattoo at her ribs, “Do you want to maybe?”

“Do I?” Amy murmurs softly, causing Hope to arch an eyebrow in annoyance. Easily forgetting about the tranquil moment with Amy being coy about this situation.

“You know…” Hope trails off, fingers carding through Amy’s hair as she stares at her.

“Do I want you?”

“That,” Hope nods quickly, “Do you want that.”

“If your good with it.”

“Always,” Hope murmurs.

_And it’s ‘always’. Amy swears her heart will always lurch into her throat whenever Hope says that single word._

_Because nothing can ever contradict an ‘Always.’_

_At least Amy doesn’t want to believe that, even if it isn’t exactly realistic of her, she still believes in optimism._

* * *

“Were you actually kidding when you said that thing about giving tattoos to people?” Amy whispers, she’s curled against Hope’s back, her leg is slung over Hope’s knee.

They’re half awake, it’s probably past midnight, and Amy doesn’t know what time it could possibly be, but she doesn’t care as long as Hope’s there too.

“If I tell you anything but yes you wouldn’t believe me.”

Hope rolls over so that they lay face to face, and Amy laughs softly at how sarcasm just naturally laced itself into every phrase Hope seemed to say.

“That isn’t true.”

“I did stupid shit back in the day,” Hope whispers, “I’m not exactly proud of my flaws.”

“I don’t think anyone really ever is,” Amy says, “It doesn’t mean that they don’t make us who we are though.”

“Your extremely optimistic right now,” Hope chastise, “Especially with blue lips Antsler.”

“What?” Amy’s eyes widen, “You didn’t think to tell me sooner?”

“I was caught up in the moment,” Hope shrugs, “As far as I know, you were too.”

“Anyway,” Amy murmurs, “I can’t help it.”

“Don’t be ashamed of it,” Hope clarifies, “It’s sweet.”

“But,” Amy says after a moment, “How did you get into Columbia?”

Hope laughs softly to herself, rolling onto her back, before rubbing the palms of her hands over her eyes, “It’s a long story.”

“Time stamps are overrated.”

“Long story short, I was really good at school,” Hope says, “I did my stupid shit during free periods and never smoked unless I was at home.”

“So you never went to school high?”

“There was one occasion,” Hope laughs in disbelief, “I had to retake the SATs because I was so fucked up from the night before.”

“Oh my God.”

“I literally fell asleep five questions in,” Hope gestures her hands in the air, looking over to Amy, “So imagine that. While everyone else is working their asses off, I’m just like passed out, full on snoring on the goddamn desk in the front row”

“And no one thought to wake you?” Amy laughs softly.

“The supervisor in that room was a dick most of my high school years because I threw an apple at his daughter during 8th grade for saying something rude to me regarding sexuality.”

“So,” Amy sighs, “You stand up for what you love?”

“Yeah,” Hope smiles, “I guess you could say something like that.”

“And when we were singing Taylor Swift in the car?” Amy questions.

It makes Hope moan in displeasure, “Please no.”

“No,” Amy laughs, “I want to know.”

“It drove me fucking crazy,” Hope groans, “I was so relieved that you asked me to sing, because I literally was about to go ape shit from the first verse.”

“Really?”

“I know like every Taylor Swift song to ever exist,” Hope rolls her eyes, “I was like really crazy way back when.”

“No,” Amy shakes her head, “Its really enduring to see things you have interests in.”

“How come?” Hope ponders.

“I just like knowing as much as I can about you,” Amy says, “I really like you.”

“I like you too,” Hope smiles, before rolling back onto her side, “Now let me sleep.”

_“_ Goodnight _.”_ Amy murmurs.

“Goodnight Blue Lips.” Hope hums softly.

Amy reaches up to wrap arms around Hope’s stomach, moving Hope’s hair to the side before burying her face into the center of her back and humming softly.

She presses her lips to the skin, before resting her cheek against it, completely stated in the moment.

_Maybe this was love_

It was so mysterious and enchanting all at once, and somehow Amy could never get enough of it. She admired everything about Hope.

Maybe she was falling, maybe she already had.

Amy didn’t know for sure, all she knew was that this felt right.

_It felt safe._

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I just brought home The 1975’s new album “Notes On A Conditional Form,” earlier this week, and let me just say… 
> 
> I sat in my fucking room, and listened to that 80 minute record front to back.
> 
> (Can I get a pat on the back though, I even listened to all of the instrumentals.)
> 
> I do that with new records I get, I take em into my room, and shut myself in.
> 
> And I don’t leave the room until the record is over, no distractions, I lock my bedroom door, so people won’t irritate me.
> 
> I enjoy the music. Listening to it in my bed.
> 
> And that’s my drug. Music. 
> 
> It’s so euphoric and sends me into a state of nirvana whenever I hear something that pleases my ears, and I don’t put it down for weeks. Definitely going to be listening to this 22 track album for most of the summer as well as parts of “FANDOM” by Waterparks.
> 
> [Just waiting for “Use Me” by PVRIS to come out next month, so hyped.]
> 
> “People” is probably going to be my alarm in the mornings though, got to love Matt Healy screaming at you to… 
> 
> “WAKE UP, WAKE UP, WAKE UP, IT’S MONDAY MORNING!”
> 
> Or… my personal favorite…
> 
> “Fuck it, I'm just gonna get girls, food, gear  
> I don't like going outside, so bring me everything here  
> (Hey, woo, yeah)
> 
> People like people  
> They want alive people  
> The young surprise people  
> Stop fucking with the, fucking with the…”
> 
> …My dad is going to love this on full blast at 6am.  
> Yes… 
> 
> I think I have a thing for English people… It’s not weird at all… Like I’m really into the culture and really want to travel to Europe… Paris mostly… 
> 
> (Okay, so maybe The 1975's song "Paris" is my favorite song by them, and it makes me so ascetically pleased to the point where I want to go outside at 4am in a downpour in jeans and a t-shirt and just stand in the pouring rain.
> 
> Rain is calming... Apart from thunderstorms. Those can fuck off.)
> 
> (stop fucking with the kids, man… soon.)


	21. There you'll stand, next to me, all at once, the rest is history

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for all of you yelling at me to update... here is your reward for hassling me so goddamn much.... this is a joke because none of you actually care and are super nice about my mental shit. i freaking love you for that, however, i do need inspiration... please... give me inspiration... because I want to finish... but I'm so out of steam... I know where the ending is... but I can only listen to "shut up" by Greyson Chance so many times before I just flat out cannot... some good shit though... love him.
> 
> but... recommend me some good shit... not depressing... i listen to punk/rock or alternative shit... and some pop... but not mainstream though... or don't.... idgaf.... just a suggestion...
> 
> this might be cringy... but eh... you want more of this story... so yeah... and plus it's by me... 
> 
> happy 4th for all you Americans... if your not an American... well... happy 4th anyway... also... please stop lighting fireworks off at 3 in the fucking morning... I'm trying to fucking sleep, and my dog is terrified of you insane people.
> 
> sorry for it being short... I was busy trying to calm my shit... and plus... I'm plotting this other story for like... Ever... and probably won't ever write it... Basically young Amy and Hope... Yeah... "You Belong With Me" inspired fic where Hope and Amy are neighbors... Yeah... I have no fucking idea anymore... I should stop trusting my last motherfucking brain cell at 3am.
> 
> enjoy these gay homos that make me melt 24/7 for no goddamn reason.

> _“But it is the nature of stars to cross, and never was Shakespeare more wrong than when he has Cassius note, ‘The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars / But in ourselves.”_
> 
> _― John Green, The Fault in Our Stars_

* * *

Chapter 21.)

Amy flutters her eyes open to the sound of Hope’s groggy voice mumbling something barely auditable. It’s muffled and dull, and apparently during the night Hope had found herself to become wrapped around Amy like some sort of vine, with Amy’s face wedged against the side of her collarbone.

It’s something that almost makes Amy feel claustrophobic, it’s hot, and falling asleep in the nude wasn’t particularly a bonus.

_Well… It was… Amy liked Hope, but if it wasn’t hotter than fucking Hell…._

Amy swears she’ll die of heat stroke if she doesn’t move, as much as Hope is so comfortable, and the feeling of a fist against her back, almost like an involuntary hug isn’t soothing in its own right, but Amy thinks she _really_ should move, she thinks her bladder might burst if she stays there for much longer.

And that’s the last thing she wants.

Sure, she likes Hope, but there are **_boundaries_**.

And that would **_not_** be cool… _like at **all**._

“Hope,” Amy groans, shifting slightly, and trying to extract herself from Hope’s death grip, however failing. Only to find Hope mummering something incoherent in response. But Amy catches the last word clearly, and it makes her frown.

“ _No_.”

“Hope,” Amy repeats, and it makes Hope squirm, nose scrunching up in displeasure.

“Go away,” Hope grumbles.

_Okay… That’s like exactly what she wants to do… How exactly could she do that if Hope wasn’t allowing that?_

“Wake up,” Amy presses, managing to slip an arm free in the process of her labor, she cranes her face up, only to be met with the sight of Hope’s jawline. It makes Amy grumble softly to herself, attempting to shift further away. Only the more she tried to move, the more Hope seemed to tighten her grip around her, basically defeating the purpose of her actions in the first place.

_“_ I don’t wanna _,”_ Hope murmurs softly.

“I swear to God,” Amy mutters. “Your leaving me no choice Conrad.”

_“_ I want more sleep _,”_ Hope stresses, and it makes Amy break her composure. Giving in to Hope’s groggy demeanor and slumping her shoulders in defeat.

“Okay,” Amy inhales deeply, nodding slowly, “ _Okay fine_.”

Amy moves to shift backward one last time, attempting to jerk out of the death grip.

And upon realizing that they were towards the side of the mattress, and understanding she was about to fall off of the edge, she sprouts all four limbs outwards, attempting to grab onto anything.

Her right hand latches onto the comforter, her other plants itself firmly in the sheet. A leg comes up to mistakenly connect to Hope’s knee, and it earns a loud profanity, Hope’s eyes swinging open instantaneously and limbs managing to skid backwards, towards the opposite side of the bed.

Amy feels her hands slip, Hope’s body apparently jerking the comforter from her grasp upon her brash movement, leaving Amy to tumble to the floor in expletive shriek.

“Fucking hell,” Hope shouts, “Good fucking morning to you too.”

Amy reaches a hand to splay across the edge of the bed, groaning in a grim reply, “Fuck off.”

The box springs groan in response to Hope shifting across them. Meeting Amy’s eyes as they narrow on the ceiling above her, completely unimpressed to Hope’s attentive nature.

“Are you okay?” Hope’s hands flatten against the sheet, as she looks down at Amy.

“Gee,” Amy murmurs sarcastically, “I don’t know Hope.”

Hope purses her lips, “Be serious.”

“I’m in fucking pain.”

“You just fell out of bed,” Hope shakes her head, “You’re the one who kicked me in the knee.”

“Can you move it?” Amy asks.

“Yeah,” Hope expresses, “It just hurts like a bitch.”

“It’s not shattered or anything?” Amy asks, and Hope shakes her head.

“What are you still doing on the floor anyway?”

“Leave me be,” Amy whines, “This is my new home.”

Hope laughs softly, “May I come inside then?”

“No,” Amy shakes her head with a wide smile, it causes Hope’s lips to pout.

“Why not?”

“There’s a ban on girls,” Amy’s hand reaches up to poke a deft finger against the tip of Hope’s nose, the pout changing into a wide grin instantly.

“ _You’re_ a girl.”

_“Pretty_ girls _,”_ Amy corrects _,_ “There’s a ban against pretty girls.”

“Are you _trying_ to say something here?”

“ _Perhaps_ ,” Amy ponders, giggling softly.

“Well, I’d hate to break it to you, but you’re a pretty girl,” Hope comments, and it makes Amy’s face heat up slightly, turning her face into her own outstretched arm, shaking her head quickly.

“Nope.”

“Yep,” Hope laughs softly, reaching over to take Amy’s hand to press her lips against a knuckle.

“W-Well,” Amy stutters, “There’s a ban on all Hope Conrad’s.”

“That sucks then,” Hope rolls her eyes.

Amy shakes her head, pulling her hand back to rub her eyes with a thumb and index finger before laughing in disbelief. “You’re so weird.”

“You like that, don’t you?” Hope murmurs, leaning her upper body down off of the side of the bed in an attempt to kiss Amy, only to figure out that she was unable to pull herself back up to her original position. It leaves Amy to laugh softly, hearing Hope mutter a soft ‘ _Fuck_.’

“Are you okay?”

“I can’t get up.”

“What on earth did you do?” Amy rolls onto her side, Hope’s palms splayed across the blue carpet as her hair falls in awkward positions across the floor, spitting slightly to avoid further hair consumption…. If that was a thing.

“I was trying to kiss you,” Hope groans, “And this ended up happening,” she gestures to herself with hand, resting her cheek against the mattress.

“You can’t pull yourself up?” Amy asks, and Hope flails her arms for a minute, trying to grab onto the sheet, however failing to properly achieve her goal.

“No.”

“No?”

“I can’t,” Hope clarifies, “Now are you just going to watch me, or are you going to help me?”

“You need to just let go, let gravity take its course.”

“Fuck gravity, I’m fucking dying here.”

“You’re not dying Hope,” Amy frowns, “Stop being dramatic.”

Hope groans softly, “I think I might actually be.”

“Your face is turning red,” Amy observes.

“It’s because I’m upside down,” Hope frowns, “I could fake a stroke right now and I doubt you’d even care.”

“I would too care Hope,” Amy pouts.

“Help me then,” Hope scoffs, “I might actually die.”

“Relax,” Amy rolls her eyes, shifting forward on her knees, before climbing to her feet and taking hold of one of Hope’s hands. Pulling her onto her right to help reposition her to lay back onto the mattress with an exasperated sigh.

“Thanks,” Hope mumbles, her face noticeably redder than it’s natural complexion, and it makes Amy want to laugh at how abnormal it looks.

“Good workout?”

“Team effort,” Hope nods, laughing softly and moving herself to sit up, pulling on Amy’s hand gently to coax her closer.

“How’s your knee?”

“Probably bruised,” Hope guesses.

“I didn’t mean to injure you,” Amy bites the inside of her cheek, looking at the pink-ish red spot forming across Hope’s knee.

“I know,” Hope laughs softly, “It doesn’t hurt that bad anyway, I’ll be fine.”

“But I thought you were in pain when I kicked you?”

Hope laughs softly, “Yeah. That shit hurt, but it doesn’t now.”

“Even when I press on it?” Amy’s mouth forms a grin, teasingly implying something that makes Hope grimace and seamlessly latch her hand around Amy’s wrist to stop any ongoing movements that included touching the edge of her knee.

“Nope,” Hope’s voice rasps, darting eyes up to meet Amy’s, “Not happening.”

Amy laughs softly, “What?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Why not?” Amy breathes out, “I thought you liked me.”

“I do,” Hope hums, pulling Amy closer, “But I don’t trust myself not to have a repeat of last night.”

“Tell me how that could be counted as a bad thing?”

Hope shakes her head softly, “You need to get dressed.”

“What time is it?” Amy questions, pressing a kiss to the side of Hope’s cheek before moving to the foot of the bed to collect their clothes from the night before. The question earns a loud groan from Hope, and she lets herself fall backward onto the bed with a huff.

“I don’t want to know.”

Amy laughs softly, “We still need to get Gerald’s bike back.”

“Fuck Gerald,” Hope scoffs, “I want to stay here with you.”

“Like you’d be okay with that,” Amy shakes her head, “He isn’t really my type anyway.”

“And what is?”

Amy hums softly, “I don’t know, I believe there is one little detail that tethers me to only remotely enjoy your company.”

“Thank God for that detail then,” Hope smiles, before reaching out a weak arm towards Amy who was moving around the room, and quickly dressing herself before combing her hair with her fingers into a messy pony-tail.

“Nope,” Amy shakes her head, “Not happening Conrad, you need to get dressed too.”

“ _But Amy_ ,” Hope whines playfully, “I want to cuddle.”

“ _But Hope_ ,” Amy echoes the tone, “We need to leave, and _you_ told me to get dressed.”

“Fine,” Hope huffs softly, “I guess I’ll get up.”

“Thank you,” Amy sighs.

“But only because I want to, not because you’re so demanding.”

“Sure, sure,” Amy rolls her eyes, “Keep telling yourself that.”

“ _Amy_ ,” Hope yawns, earning a puzzled look.

“What?”

“Can you actually not right now?”

“What’d I do?”

“Just come here and kiss me,” Hope breathes out, “Perhaps that outta persuade me to get up, or persuade you to stay.”

“Whatever,” Amy rolls her eyes before throwing Hope’s underwear into her arms reach, earning a grumble.

“ _Amy_ ,” Hope whines.

“I’m not kissing you,” Amy shakes her head, “If I do, God knows what’ll happen.”

“So dramatic,” Hope mocks, pulling her clothes back on, and looking over to Amy with an amused smile.

“Says the woman who was using the bed to do a handstand like five minutes ago naked, and screaming about how she thought she was going to die.”

“I’ll have you know,” Hope raises her index finger, “I believe I was actually seeing spots not long before you helped me up.”

“ _Sure_ ,” Amy states nonchalantly.

“And two,” Hope raises her middle finger, “I can do a handstand just fine.”

“Oh, can you now?” Amy raises a brow, “Using a wall?”

Hope shakes her head, clasping her bra, and pulling her shirt over her head, she huffs in defeat, “There is no real way to please you, is there?”

“That’s the fun of me,” Amy shrugs, grabbing Hope’s jacket from its place on the floor, balancing the jacket on her index finger by the hanging loop stitched into the inside collar, “I can turn you on your head.”

“I see,” Hope says, standing up to swipe her jacket from Amy’s index finger, shrugging it onto her shoulders, and picking up her Chucks, before taking a seat at the foot of the bed, she leans down, pulling her socks on each foot, followed by her shoes.

“Yeah,” Amy murmurs, watching as Hope effortlessly laces each shoe, before sighing and looking up to Amy without another word.

“You’re thinking about something,” Hope states, making Amy’s eyes widen.

“No,” Amy says, “I’m not.”

“You are,” Hope nods, “You’re doing that thing where your forehead creases and your eyes turn hazy.”

“I do that?”

“I don’t know,” Hope jokes, “I can just tell that you’re not mentally here.”

“I am _too_ ,” Amy lies with an exasperated sigh.

“What’s on your mind?” Hope asks, waving a hand, only to make Amy shake her head and sigh.

“I was just thinking, nothing big.”

“Well,” Hope frowns, “It’s you, and _to_ _me_ , that’s kind of big.”

“It’s nothing, really,” Amy shakes her head.

“Then tell me about this nothingness that your extremely instant with.”

Amy takes a breath, nerves clenching within her gut, before she opens her mouth to speak, words quivering boldly as Amy speaks them.

“You know, for the first time in my life, I feel like I can tell someone. You, almost anything, Like you know me Hope. And I’m not talking about some façade that I had back before, whenever you were around, but knowing the real me, and at times that scares me, because I feel like you’d call me out if I was ever bullshitting you, or being ignorant about something.“

Hope is silent for a minute, staring at Amy as she looks up from the floor, staring at the different parts of the room, avoiding Hope’s eyes as they stare into her frame, her hands are playing with the zippers that run along her sleeve on her jacket, and Hope knows that Amy feels afraid. Anyone in their right mind would be, and considering Amy isn’t ever good at telling Hope anything like this.

She has the right to fidget, and maybe Hope finds that kind of adorable too.

Fuck, and that’s the reason she almost lost Amy the first time. Amy was afraid of telling her how she felt.

But she told Hope, she just told her now.

And Hope guesses that maybe that was progress, that Amy was conquering some type of demonic nerve inside of her mind that separated her from Hope. Hope can feel that she’s done something, Amy isn’t how she was, she seems more unified and whimsical, and Hope doesn’t know this side, but she completely loves it too… _Love_?

_Probably_.

Hope has probably fallen.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” Amy asks, “Or are you going to keep staring at me as I make an ass out of myself?”

Hope’s eyes look up, widening in shock, she didn’t realize that she managed to zone out, completely oblivious, and for some reason she feels some form of guilt about that.

But nothing too detrimental, because Amy’s giving her a an uncomfortably awkward smile, tucking a strand of hair that had loosely hung down her cheek back behind her ear.

“Y-Yeah,” Hope nods, “Sorry, I just-“

“Spaced out?” Amy raises a brow,

“Yeah,” Hope smiles softly, “I was trying to find the right words to say, and it kind of ended up bringing me on a mental tangent.”

Amy takes a deep breath, “So you didn’t catch anything I said?’

“No,” Hope shakes her head, “I just didn’t catch the last part.”

Amy’s eyes drop back down to the floor for a minute, toe coming up to press the tip of her shoe into a worn fiber spot in the carpet, “I said uh…”

“What?” Hope’s eyes look up, a perplexed look in her eye, “You can tell me.”

“I said I love you.”

And instantly Hope’s world stops, she feels the wind get knocked from her lungs in a rush, like everything had just changed.

And maybe it had.

Jesus Christ, Hope wouldn’t be surprised if she somehow managed to have a brain aneurysm here in the middle of the motel room… But maybe she had a good reason to.

“You mean that?” Hope feels herself ask, before feeling her eyes widen in shock and she shakes her head quickly, “Hold on.”

Amy laughs softly, “Your crying.”

“Fuck,” Hope looks down, “Don’t make me look like an absolute coward here.”

“So dramatic,” Amy shakes her head.

“But you love dramatic,” Hope murmurs.

“Yeah,” Amy nods, “I really do.”

“Now,” Hope brushes her eyes with the heel of her palm before clearing her throat, “I’m not an expert on this subject, but am I supposed to say something back?”

“Hope!” Amy’s lips form an amused expression, “You literally just ruined the moment.”

“No I didn’t,” Hope shakes her head, “I don’t know if you understand it, but I’m lucky Amy. Lucky to have found you when I did.”

“Bullshit,” Amy scoffs.

“It’s true!” Hope comments, “And maybe I do love you too.”

“And you mean that?”

“No,” Hope deadpans, “I was just saying that for shits and giggles.”

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Yes you idiot,” Hope laughs, “I love you.”

Amy smiles, full blown. The type of smile that you cannot for the life of you wipe off your face. It’s neither smug, or faked, but purely of happiness.

Like if the sun had a certain smile, it would be Amy’s. Her whole body is reflecting it.

And maybe Amy cries a little bit too, it’s touching. You know? Sue her.

“Kiss me,” Amy says, “Then we can leave.”

Hope’s frame moves to directly stand in front of Amy’s, craning her face down to capture her lips.

It feels somehow electric, almost emotional at the same time, and for some reason Amy just wants to stay here. Continuously feeling of Hope’s lips as they confine and immobilize all other thoughts, the feeling of what Amy can only feel as adoration filling every waking nerve.

And it feels like some sort of fire had just been ignited, when one had previously been extinguished, and in a way it was possible that that was true.

That was then, perhaps this was new too.

This was everything, that was something.

“Better?” Hope asks, leaning her forehead against Amy’s before grinning softly.

Amy nods slowly, “Now let’s go give Gerald’s bike back.”

“Okay,” Hope confirms, “I do need some fresh clothes anyway,” Hope murmurs.

“Yeah,” Amy states, handing Hope’s helmet to her before siding her own over her face, “Didn’t need to know about your situation.”

“Whatever,” Hope laughs, “You love this.”

“Shut up,” Amy shakes her head.

“Or what?”

“Perhaps I’ll purposefully kick you in your other knee,” Amy comments, earning a horrified look from Hope.

“Point taken.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...also I made a list of things I want these two to do before ending the story, and I can tell you right now... One of them is... 
> 
> "Hope running around with Amy in a shopping cart"
> 
> No reason specifically, but seriously... I can just see Hope doing this.
> 
> This was me and my best friend at one point too... 
> 
> she just got her first tattoo not too long ago after her birthday and I'm super proud of her, but we were like this in a Wal-Mart like last year... 
> 
> And we totally got kicked out. Thanks to her dropping a bag of flour on the floor and making a scene... 
> 
> ...okay, maybe I was screaming obnoxiously like every five seconds throughout the produce section...Teenagers... am I right?
> 
> (She was really bad at driving a fucking shopping cart... How is that even possible? I swear... she was going to freaking kill me...)
> 
> (Also, if you do not listen to "Stand Atlantic" or know who the hell Bonnie Fraser is... You really need to. She's awesome. "Skinny Dipping" is awesome... and she's queer.)
> 
> (Also... I may have teared up... and ended up giving into my temptation to write this... ofc... I stared crying when someone told me that they loved me for the first time... like actually... oh my god... it was so bad... I was full blown sobbing in the middle of a McDonald's drive-thru in the back of their car eating chicken nuggets. Go ahead and make fun of me... I dare you... you weren't there...)
> 
> (yes, i used to be just like Hope... ngl... whenever I dropped something when I was younger, I was always too lazy to get out of bed so I basically did some random ass improvisations of gymnastics and ended up getting in the place to be unable to pull myself back into my bed, instead, having to fall onto the floor onto my face... starting to cry afterwards for my parents... I was like five... I still do this now... what is wrong with me? Is that weird? Did anyone else ever do that shit? Just me? Alright, this chapter is weird as fuck then.)
> 
> (I need help.)
> 
> tell me what you think. 
> 
> cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> Basically Amy has commitment issues and doesn’t know what to do without Molly’s advice... And Hope being absolutely frustrated because of her feelings.
> 
> For some reason I enjoy the thought of Hope’s father being a veteran.
> 
> There is not enough good Booksmart fics out there yet, and I’m fully committed to helping filling that gap. I genuinely just want to write about some useless lesbian banter with Hope in a V-neck shirt, with some tattoos exposed at her collar, underneath a vintage leather jacket with shoulder pads and in biker pants… One with zippers for pockets and some buckles for decorative purposes as well as in dirty rainbow bottomed Chuck Taylors…. 
> 
> Oddly specific… I think not… Just imagine that though. What would Amy’s reaction be? 
> 
> No one’s written that shit… So, I’ve gotta do it for myself... Because my gay ass will be forever alone waiting for my own version of Hope to show up like this on my doorstep. Hehehe… You laugh… but I’m not actually joking… I am.  
> I blame Booksmart for making me accidently fall in love with a STRAIGHT Kaitlyn Dever… Now I feel bad… Because this is just… All kinds of wrong… It kind of feels right.


End file.
